If Rick Had Met Vivian
by Elle Winnie
Summary: Sophomore transfer Vivian Graham might as well have stumbled upon Rick Murray by accident; however when you're at the heart of Degrassi's drama like Rick, it's hard to be forgotten about. Vivian ends up befriending him in the hopes of finding a logical reason for Degrassi's disdain for him, but she slowly uncovers skeletons from her own past as well-and they're relevant.
1. Welcome to the Drama

_**If Rick Had Met Vivian...**_

(If you're not interested in my lengthy introduction, scroll down to where the chapter starts at "Welcome to the Drama")

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**Hello there! ^-^ I'm sort of new here in the fan fiction universe, and I found this website through a driven passion to share a story that I had brewing in my mind for about...five years prior? I finally found the inspiration to pick up a pen and start writing away, and the rest is history! I'm a huge fan of Degrassi: the Next Generation, and as I discovered several fan fiction stories on this site, I realized that I definitely wasn't alone. **

**The Rick Murray storyline always interested me the most, especially after the school shooting occurred. To say the least, I was frustrated with how things turned out, and I found myself thinking: what if there was someone at Degrassi who gave Rick a chance? Thus, this story happened! It's my fan-fiction "debut", and I hope you enjoy it!**

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****Just so you know...****

**1) I've inserted some original (my own) characters into Degrassi:  
**

**Vivian Graham**\- Main character (a part from Rick Murray)

**Queenie Parker**\- Vivian's best friend

**Ivory**\- Vivian's friend

**Vince**\- Vivian's older brother

**Mr. Graham**\- Vivian's father

**2) The story is being told in first person, and I occasionally switch between points of view, especially between Vivian and Rick.**

**3) Actual dialogue from the series is being used. I don't own anything Degrassi-related (except for my characters)**

**4) You're in for a twist in this story! :D But seriously: have fun! Reviews are very much appreciated.**

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**Rated**: T (mild violence and language)

**Categories**: Drama, Romance, Mystery

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_**Part I**_

**I. Welcome to the Drama**

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_"I wonder how much about what Paige said about him was true. If it is, I've stumbled across some serious high school drama."**  
**_

* * *

Two weeks.

That feels like a long time while attending Degrassi Community School in Toronto, Canada. I must say, I never thought I'd be in Canada, but due to my father's sales job, and other personal issues, we moved from our hometown in Chicago to Toronto, which isn't a terribly long distance.

When I looked at this strange new brick building for the first time- yellow and baby blue-tinted windows tiling the upper half; two sets of glass double doors sitting on the bottom half; and a banner separating the two with large silver letters that read DEGRASSI COMMUNITY SCHOOL—I could only imagine what my life would be like beyond that point. When I saw students in their denim pants and t-shirts scattering about, moving in and out of the doors, I reassured myself that Canada wasn't at all a strange northern version of Antarctica. Least not in Toronto, Ontario. I was never a sucker for the American stereotypes about Canada, especially when they were remarked by ignorant classmates, but sicne I actually moved to this country for a permanent fix, nothing but these thoughts paraded through my mind, and I had to constantly remind myself of the reality of my situation. Canada is just like America in more ways than one. Maybe a little bit better in some ways.

As tedious as registering for classes was at such a short notice, and after the school year had started, it was also surreal; bizarre. It was as if I was watching myself in a dream going through health records, transcripts, and meeting new faculty and staff members. Random things stick out in my mind during that day; like when I discovered that the name for my computer science class was called Media Immersion, and the instructor's name was "A. Simpson." I actually chuckled out loud. _My teacher has the name of that frivolous, yellow cartoon family on television-and he teaches high school students? He has to be the butt of every students' jokes! _

Other than that and meeting Principal Raditch for the first time, my mind was on vacation. I was totally out of it, despite how friendly everyone behaved towards me. There was so much I had to accustom myself to, and so much I had to move on from, _have_ to move on from. My friends, as a primary example, were so much of who I was before my father and I moved. I couldn't believe how numb I was to everything happening to me, but I was struggling to keep a memory. I had grown up being used to the Chicago suburbs and tall buildings, not the ones in Toronto. But I'm not here on vacation; I'm here to stay.

On the first day, well _my_ first day, dad kissed me square on my forehead and hugged me tightly. "You'll have a great learning experience here." He said softly into my ear. "You've always been so eager to learn."

I hugged him back. "This is so strange. I don't know what to feel." Actually I was terrified, but I didn't tell dad that.

Dad kissed my hair and we let each other go. "I love you." He said.

"I love you more."

I watched my dad drive away in his blue mini-van, and inhaled.

That was the point of no return.

* * *

Two weeks on, and I've adjusted well. I've learned that I don't have to use my "magic petite powers" to swerve through hoards of people who fill the hallways like at my old school. Being only 4'10'' and 92 lbs, I was proud of my little advantage. Now it's unnecessary, unless there's a commotion going on. Anyway, I've had the pleasure of making two good friends. Queenie Parker, a girl who I stumbled across in my gym class, walked over to me in the middle of warm-ups tbat day.

"Yeah, the coach mentioned there was going to be a new student in our class," she said to me, "so I just wanted to meet you myeslf. You made that totally easy for me: not only are you a new face, but you appear to be so lost and confused. I felt sorry for you." I had no idea how to react to this girl, who I briefly thought was a little weird, so I just smiled and told her my name. After she apologized for being so fourthcoming, I warmed up to her. In a way she was like me, the me I was before I moved anyway: high-spirited and friendly. I liked her, and needed her as reminder of the way I used to be before this drastic change of location.

I've mostly become well acquainted with Queenie with her honest feedback and her spontaneity, and to top it all she's down to earth. She's officially my girl crush. Ivory is the other good friend I have made. She has a sassy, fiery personality much like her auburn hair. Her sarcasm is her strongest highlight, which gets a chuckle out of me every now and then.

Other classmates treat me nicely as well. Toby, for instance, doesn't hesitate to hold the door open for me every time he sees an opportunity. J.T., short for James Tiberius (sorry to disappoint you), finds ways to make me laugh, even though he's a little juvenile. I've also spoken with a girl they call…Manny? Yeah, something like that. Again, she's a short girl, but taller than I, with inky, thick long hair like a lion's. After having the opportunity to socialize with more and more new people, who shockingly weren't too crystalized in their own cliques to recognize me, I re-kindled some of the old spirit I once possessed.

Now, today, I'm sitting on the stairs in front of the school on this warm, sunny day. I close my eyes and drink in the leaf-scented breeze that's cool as it laps at my face.

"Someone tell me I'm hallucinating."

My eyes snap open. Apparently not everyone is enjoying this day. I recognize the voice as Paige Michalchuk's. It's too snooty to belong to anyone else's.

I turn around and see her standing behind me with a group of other students who I'm unfamiliar with except for Marco Del Rossi, a short, tan Italian guy with dark hair that he wears slicked back. I also see a tall, slender blonde join them, her hair in bangs. I recognize her from my English class. Is her name…Emma?

"Remember Terri McGregor? The girl that was in a coma last year?" Says a kid standing next to Paige. He has wavy hair the color of muddy hay.

"He's the psycho who put her there." Paige says. "His name's Rick. Her ex. He used to beat her."

Huh? What? Who?

"Yeah, and he's _your_ new classmate, Emma: he starts 10th grade tomorrow." The dirty blonde says.

I tune out of the conversation. Who are they talking about? Where is he? I grab my backpack, throw it over my shoulder and stand up. Sure enough, I see the Rick kid standing with his mother as they talk with the principal, Mr. Raditch. It's like _Deja Vu_: another kid having to start classes late, and in the same grade as I as well. To some extent it's a comfort knowing I'm not the only student getting a rough start. I glance at Paige and her flock and notice them glaring in his direction. Bingo.

I stare at the kid. He doesn't appear threatening. He has mouse brown hair down to his shoulders and round, Harry Potter glasses on his face, which complement his decent-sized nose. He has semi-full sized lips, and his cheeks are rosy in the sunlight. At a first glance, he seems to be on the quiet side, and he even looks a little nervous as he wears a tiny glare on his face (or maybe it's just the glare of the sun). He isn't very tall either, or very muscular. I wonder how much about what Paige said about him was true. If it is, I've stumbled across some serious high school drama.*

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**Housekeeping: Since Vivian is a new student, she doesn't know all of the principal characters well (in case anyone is confused). Asterisks (*) indicate the end of a chapter, should I add notes at the end. Tell me what you think!  
**


	2. The Rick Kid

**II. The Rick Kid**

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_"Is that boy really a threat to the student body?"**  
**_

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"Who's Rick?" I ask Queenie as we walk to school from her house the next day.

"I don't know what you're getting at." Queenie raises one of her eyebrows.

"Oh, sorry." I say. "Apparently there's this kid who's at school today, and he apparently beat up a girl last year or something."

"Oh, Rick Murray!" exclaims Queenie. "You know, I thought it was just a rumor that he was returning to Degrassi, but it's actually true!" she shakes her head. "He's got quite the history from last year."

"What history?" We've approached a crosswalk with the school looking out at us from the other side. The light finally turns green for the pedestrians and we scurry across the street and climb the front stairs of Degrassi into the building.

"Hello, Queenie?" I nudge my friend. "What are you talking about with Rick's history?"

Queenie presses her pointer against her lips. "Not so loud when you're talking about someone else. I'll tell you later. I need to talk to Ms. Sauvé right now." I watch her nearly dash across the lobby and turn left as a mass of students swallows her up, eliminating her from sight.

_Fine: I'll figure this out for myself_.

So it appears that all I have to go by is Paige's word about Rick. It sounds as if he was abusive to his ex-girlfriend, whoever she is or was, and if she ended up in a coma because of him, it must mean that he was really dangerous, or _is_ really dangerous. So why is he back? What is he looking for? Does anyone in charge at Degrassi know about this? Ugh, damn these dancing questions in my head! I shake my head to clear it.

"Hey, Vivian."

Abruptly I turn and see Emma, the skinny blonde I saw yesterday afternoon. She's wearing a navy-colored, collared, short sleeve shirt and a denim mini-skirt. She's sitting on a set of wide stairs that lead into the gymnasium, towards the left of the main entrance.

I walk over. "What's up?"

"I'm waiting for Paige and Spinner." She replies. "Marco and Alex, two other upperclassmen, are talking to Raditch about a kid in our school. We're trying to get rid of him."

"What kid?" I know very well who she's talking about.

"Rick Murray." She replies through this nearly vacant expression. "He was abusive to his girlfriend last year and nearly killed her, and we don't want him to hurt anyone else."

She said this in monotone, as if she was reciting a story rather than something that—supposedly—happened in real life. Now I'm really starting to question the reality of what happened. Is that boy really a threat to the student body?

"You okay?" Emma asks me.

I shake my head. "I'm great." Giant lie. Something's vague about this entire situation, and I want to clear it up. It's like I have no life, but tapping into this adds drama to it. I wasn't here last year to say what Rick did or didn't do, so I have to find answers for myself. I want to kick myself for playing Nancy Drew, but I don't accept things as the truth just because someone tells me.

Sighing, I pop a squat next to Emma. "I'm curious about how this conversation will go." That and I want to talk to Marco about student council applications. He told me on the day he was elected president that applications would be available after campaigning season ended completely. This is a perfect opportunity to ask him about it.

Soon, Paige and the dirty blonde who I assume is Spinner show up. "This had better turn out well." Paige storms over to the step beneath Emma and mine's and Spinner follows her. She doesn't acknowledge us as she sits down.

"It doesn't matter." Spinner says. "_We'll_ do something if Raditch doesn't."

They appear a little more passionate about "No Rick Allowed" than Emma, which leads me to believe that they were well acquainted with the girl he hurt. That makes sense. If my friend's abusive boyfriend put her in a coma, and he was returning to the school…

Wait—he's allowed to return to school? If Rick hurt that girl so seriously that she ended up in a coma, shouldn't he be in jail? Juvenile detention? Domestic abuse is against the law—least in the United States. Doesn't the same apply for Canada? So what happened? I don't want to ask Paige or Spinner: it's a sore spot for the both of them, and I doubt Emma knows any more than I do. I sigh in despair. Sounds like the girl in the coma transferred, so at least she's safe from Rick, but Nancy Drew is still on the case.

"'_I always knew you were a smart boy, Marco.'_ Can you believe he said that?" Marco and the girl with him, who's probably Alex, show up. Marco was imitating Raditch, which only means one thing.

Rick Murray stays.

"Wow, you guys really handled Raditch." Emma comments sarcastically as they sit down.

I also notice another guy who greets Spinner with a fist bump sit down. I don't know him at all: he's really tall and pretty skinny, with poufy hair, blossoming into a fro. He has a tan complexion and is wearing a sports jacket. Definitely a jock.

"Psycho at twelve o'clock." Spinner says.

I look up. Rick is in the building scanning the lobby, and he looks in our direction. Gradually he makes his way towards us. Oh, boy. I can see his blue, plaid, short-sleeve button down baggy on his figure. He's also wearing a gray t-shirt underneath, with matching gray pants and sneakers.

"Marco, Paige, Spinner, Jimmy." He greets four of us, voice light and perky. I look around and see all of them, including Emma and Alex, glaring at him in return.

If looks could kill, Rick would be sliced up. Goosebumps cover my skin as a stony cold silence fills the air around us. There's a tension as thick as smoke in the room. I can only sit awkwardly and watch Rick's expression fall from an almost smile to a complete frown, and he walks away. Suddenly Emma hops up from the ledge next to me and follows Rick. I watch as she blocks his path.

I've never felt so confused and helpless. What just happened? It's like I'm watching television. The only thing I do know is that it's best if Rick stays away from this group of people while he's at Degrassi.

Why did he return in the first place?


	3. Warriors in Orange

**III. Warriors in Orange**

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_"Thanks to Emma's protest, Rick's Violent behavior is now a public affair."_

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Queenie introduces me to chips and ketchup: two foods that are all-American, and yet they've never hooked up. Welcome to Canada, Vivian. Now all it takes for me to douse hunger is a bag of Lays and a bottle of Heinz, and the rest is history. Earlier I asked Queenie to place a restraining order between me and the chips. She told me that could be arranged.

I've asked her for assistance with my student council application that Marco gave me earlier today. I want to stand out, but I don't know how.

"Hmm…it's been two weeks since I've known you? Not a very long time to really get acquainted with a person." Queenie says.

"Yeah, well these people have to become acquainted with me through my _first_ impression: a piece of paper."

"Touché." Queenie agrees. "Listen, Vivian, I'm always prepared for these types of questions because there's been a unique quality in everyone I've befriended; therefore you have a unique quality that sets you apart from other people."

I'm having a sleepover at her townhouse. Her tiny room is decorated in a sunflower theme. Her walls are painted a sky blue, decorated with floating sunflowers. Her pale green comforter also has sunflower heads, and it stands out against the white carpet. It's a pretty room, but it would suck if Queenie got a stain in it anywhere.

"Seriously Vivian; you have an _incredible_ aura about you." Queenie continues. "Your smile is as bright as the sun, and you light up a room once you walk into it. Have you forgotten that _you_ asked me if _I _needed help getting to my chemistry class even though it was _your_ first time ever in Canada, let alone a new school?"

"You're just as amazing." I tell her.

"Why thank you." She says.

"Speaking of which, why don't _you_ apply for StuCo?"

Queenie pauses "Who, me? I'm not really interested."

"Why not? You're such an inspirational person, and you could develop great leadership skills from doing so." I tell her.

"You're so optimistic about things, girly." Queenie flicks my hair. "Write that on your application. You see, I think activities like student council are all popularity contests, and I don't think a person should be elected to join based on popular vote."

"Why not?" I say. "Isn't that the whole point to student council: the _students_ have a voice?"

"Sure", Queenie answers. "If the students voted fairly, I'd probably be in favor for it, but…not all voting high school students are reasonable: they're selfish."

"How so?"

"They sometimes only vote based on who looks better to them, no matter what your personality looks like. If you look good, then you're good enough to be on the council. Not to mention having some popularity status. It's a vicious cycle if you ask me: someone who's popular is good-looking, and someone who's good-looking is usually popular." Queenie elaborates.

As shallow as it may seem, it's a true statement that frightens me. If I wanted to run for an office, would my votes be determined based on how pretty I am? Would it even matter if I was able to segue in with the other students and understand their desires for the school? "Okay then, but you're lucky to help me out." I say. "Because I plan on changing the student body community forever." I laugh after saying it just because I sound ridiculous.

Queenie nods. "I believe you."

I look at her. She's staring at me with a lost look on her face. It's the serious I've ever seen her. I turn away to fill out my application.

* * *

Today there are so many orange ribbons going by worn by my fellow students. They're designed much like breast cancer ribbons only a pale, creamy colored orange. Curiosity is compelling me: where did they get them from?

I stop a student in the hallway. She looks annoyed: clearly she's not a morning person.

"That orange ribbon on your shirt: where did you get it from?" I ask her. "I'm seeing everyone with them."

"There are two blondes in the lobby walking around and sellin' them for a buck." She answers then walks away.

_What a vivid description_, I think, but I have a hunch at who one of the two blondes may be: Emma. Queenie told me about her campaigns and protests from the past. The other blonde could be anybody. I head to the lobby to see them in person. The number of people with ribbons multiplies drastically, and I have to use my magic petite powers to swerve through the mass of students. In the heart of the orange lace I spot the two blondes: Emma and Paige.

"Hey, you wanna buy a ribbon?" Paige asks me.

"What for?" I ask.

"To support students against violence." Emma answers. "Show the school where you stand."

I shrug and reach into my purse.

"This is about Rick isn't it?"

I look up to see a guy in a baggy gray jacket with a white tank top underneath. He has short blonde hair and round pale blue eyes. There's a girl with long red hair standing beside him dressed form head to toe in black. She's wearing long sleeves in spite of the September heat.

"It's a silent protest." Emma answers the guy. "We wanna pressure Rick. Make his life hell."

"Without breaking any of the rules whatsoever. Emma's a genius." Paige elaborates. "There's nothing Raditch can do."

"Wow." The red head's sarcastic. "Such heroes." She and the blonde guy walk on.

"Aah, come on." I say. "I left my wallet at home." I'm lying to them. How can I participate in a protest when I don't even have all of the details straight about what's going on?

"Here." Emma hands me a ribbon anyway. "Pay me later. The proceeds go to the Directions Women's Shelter."

I nod. I don't mind donating, but I'm NOT for the cause that Emma and Paige are promoting. I'm too confused about what's going on to choose a side. I still don't know all of the details of the abuse, even though I'm positive Rick was responsible for it.

I walk away, baffled and a little anxious about what's to come. Are Emma and Paige REALLY trying to kick Rick out of a public facility? How dangerous is he, or how dangerous do they think he is? I have to get to the heart of the matter, and _then_ I'll determine whether or not Rick is a threat to my safety.

* * *

I communicate with Emma in my Chemistry class via old-fashioned note passing. I want answers about this "silent" protest. There's one student between Emma and me in class, so the note doesn't have to travel a long distance, which would make it riskier. I pass the first note discretely behind the back of my chair so as not to disturb the class.

_Tell me what you mean by pressuring Rick_.

That's what my note reads. I've placed the orange ribbon on my notebook, and I'm staring at it now, waiting for Emma's response. I'm left to conclude that the boy being "pressured" is really dangerous if Emma is involving a majority of the student body to kick him out. I have to find out more, so Ms. Hatzilakos can't know about this. I'm reading over my lab assignment and highlighting important notes to divert her suspense from me.

A pencil taps my leg. The boy sitting between Emma and me hands me a new note. I take it, and watch cautiously for Ms. H. She's scolding a kid for chewing gum. Quickly I unfurl the note.

_We don't want him at Degrassi, so we're gonna ostracize him, making him feel like he's not welcome._

I write under her reply in bright red ink: _Who's we?_

I nudge the boy with my foot and give him the note underhand. Soon the note is returned with the response:

_Everyone with an orange ribbon_.

I briefly glance around the class. There are some students—no, a lot of students—wearing a ribbon, and according to Emma, ALL of these students are going to ostracize ONE? That would definitely succeed. Who'd want to stay in a school where everyone hated them?

_But is this the right thing?_ I pat the guy's arm, thanking him as he served for our note's transportation. Coincidentally, I also spot him wearing a ribbon. _What are all these people going to do to just one?_ Thanks to Emma's protest, Rick's violent behavior is now a public affair.

As soon as the bell rings and everyone scatters, I feel a tap on my shoulder from behind. I turn and see Emma standing there. "You certainly had a lot of questions." She says.

I nod. "Sorry to pester you; I think it's good to be inquisitive. That and I'm pretty new here, so I'm not familiar with your famous protests I've heard so much about."

Emma smirks. "So this is your first time witnessing an Emma campaign."

"Live from Toronto." Reporter Vivian replies.

"Well brace yourself." Emma sweeps a lock of her hair over her shoulder. "The exciting part is yet to come." She walks away, head high, stride confident.

Was that supposed to mean something...good?

The orange ribbons are gung ho about getting rid of Rick. As I go to my locker to grab supplies, I catch him walking past me down the hall. Today he's wearing a long-sleeve, black and white-checkered button down with a white t-shirt underneath. He's wearing dark gray pants and the gray shoes from the other day.

He's heading towards the double doors that lead to the next corridor, but before he can reach them, a group of girls—all wearing ribbons—blocks his path. He attempts to weave around them, but more show up, and they all glare at him with their arms crossed. They almost look like secret service agents guarding the entrance to The White House. Finally, Rick turns back and walks the other way, only to be bumped in the shoulder on purpose by a tall, blonde girl. Rick pauses, suppressing a sigh, then proceeds down the hall.

_Ouch_, I think.

It doesn't stop there. Rick happens to walk in the same direction I am as I head to gym class. I'm a few feet behind him when I notice a girl approach him from his right and knock the books he's holding from his hand. He kneels to pick them up, but another girl kicks them away from his grasp, and it nearly intersects with my shin. The air from the kick brushes my lower leg as I avoid the collision in time.

But I walk on, not daring to look back at Rick.

* * *

I have a feeling that the next anti-Rick strike will happen in the cafeteria, should Rick have a lunch break at this hour. I'm sitting with my friends, Queenie and Ivory. Ivory's name fits her complexion to the "t". She has long, wavy auburn hair and round green eyes. She's wearing a short, collared denim jumpsuit and golden scandals. I almost want to trade her outfit with mine: my raspberry colored tank top; my sky blue cover up; my pale yellow mini-skirt; and my silver scandals. Then again, I like my outfit just a little bit more. Neither of my two friends is wearing a ribbon, which is somewhat of a relief to me due to all of the drama that Emma's campaign has caused.

"So talk, little Vivian." Ivory says as we chow on less-than-decent food in the cafeteria. Good news: Canada and U.S. are more alike than you think.

"Yeah, sunshine." Queenie joins in. "We know when something's troubling you, even this soon in our friendship." She pinches my cheek, and I slap her hand away.

"Stop or you'll regret me having fast reflexes." I say.

"I'm shaking, now are you ready to tell us what's on your mind?" Ivory asks.

"No pressure from you guys, right?" I say as I nearly drink my entire carton of chocolate milk in one sitting. I'm so glad I don't have to go to rehab for my serious addiction.

"We never said that." Queenie says nonchalantly.

"Smart alec." I swipe both her and Ivory's plastic utensils from their grasps, knowing they both need them for the soup they each have. "Here's the deal, ladies: stop two-timing me and I'll tell you."

"Deal." They both say and take back their plastic utensils.

I prepare to spill the beans as I open my mouth, but before I utter a sound, a guy shouts from the corner of the cafeteria. "DON'T LET THE PSYCHO SIT!"

We all avert our gazes towards the direction of the shouting; find the boy who yelled; and follow his glare, which is fixed on the other side of the cafeteria. And there on the far right corner of the room stands Degrassi's infamous Rick. I watch as some of the students rise to their feet and guard pathways to tables. Three students on our side of the room are blocking the way, so Rick can't get through. We all watch as he wanders around the cafeteria with his tray like a lost puppy. Every time he encounters a blocked path, he turns in the opposite direction, which eventually ends up being him going in circles until he can no longer go anywhere because every path to a seat is blocked. I watch from afar. _No_ one wants him to sit with them. Eventually Rick quits and leaves the cafeteria, and a chorus of applause erupts as he's going. Then everything goes back to normal, and the air is vibrant with student chatter once more.

"Well that was very interesting." Queenie comments.

"That's what's driving me crazy!" I exclaim.

Ivory and Queenie both stare at me, silent.

"What, the Rick thing? I think it's pretty impressive how the majority of the student body is passionate about kicking him out." Ivory shakes her head. "It was a mistake for him to return."

"Why is this bothering you?" Queenie asks.

"Because," I say, "Even though Rick isn't a nice person based on what I've heard, is it right to just put him on blast for something he did in the past?"

"He did hurt a girl." Ivory points out.

"But does anyone know exactly what happened?" I say. "Has anybody ever spoken to Rick to get his side of the story?"

"What? _His_ side of the story?" Ivory says. "He put a girl in a coma; how much more information do you need?"

I shake my head. "You know what? Never mind: I'm the new girl, so my opinion doesn't mean anything at Degrassi."

I rise from the table and leave the cafeteria (with my chocolate milk in hand) and storm to the restroom. Does Ivory have to be so one-sided about this predicament like everyone else? I should have given her my ribbon!

As soon as I find the restroom door, I reach for the handle only for someone else to open it on the other side and crash into me, and the last thing I see is black and white checked squares. I recoil back, nearly falling, but the person I run into grabs my waist and steadies me.

The person who everyone wants gone.

I'm holding on to his arms so I don't stumble, and I look at him up close for the first time. Rick's frown has taken a permanent residence on his face, but this time there's a glint of surprise instead of misery. Who would've thought I'd be in the arms of the "psycho"?

"I'm sooo sorry!" I say quickly. "Did I almost walk into the boys' room?" No, this totally isn't awkward.

"It's alright." He replies. "At least you apologized." He looks away as he releases me.

"Well thanks." I say. "You spared me a humiliating experience."

Immediately I wish can I take it back. This guy has already had enough of those experiences to last him a lifetime in just this one day. Now I feel stupid.

"Bye." I hurry off. What did I just do? I could've used that advantage to ask him questions like I said I wanted to do earlier, but I can't find the courage to, especially knowing that everyone hates him for it.

Oh, Vivian, you're a work of art.


	4. Opening the V Can (Vivian, that is)

**IV. Opening the "V" Can (Vivian, that is)**

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_"You take care of this...use your 'magic petite powers'."**  
**_

* * *

Today I've lost count of the anti-Rick points scored, and I have a feeling that I'm about to witness another one. As Ms. Kwan, my English teacher, goes through the names for attendance, she reads the name "Richard Murray", and goose bumps immediately cover my body. I'm trying my best not to focus on that. I remind myself that I'm excited about this class because of the assignment we have due: we're supposed to recite a quote that inspires us. Finding a handful of quotes wasn't painful at all, but choosing which one to share with the class was tedious. I'm sensitive about things like this, especially since Ms. Kwan wants us to explain why we've chosen our quotes. I'm a mushy person, so my explanations are always deep, but I decide that's better than it being boring. I feel as if I'm going to have the longest quote in the entire class, but it was my favorite of all of the ones I've found.

When it's my turn to present, which is right after Emma, I move quickly to the front of the room and face my audience. The kids remind me of a graveyard of tombstones: some are sitting up perfectly straight, while the others are leaning over, lopsided and wanting to collapse. To my surprise, Rick isn't among them. Oh well; he must've gone to the restroom. I read my quote by Marianne Williamson, "Our deepest fear…" with a solid, inflecting tone, and pause in appropriate places to season the effect of the quote:

_Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be?_

"This quote speaks to me." I say when I'm finished. "I live by it every day."

"Very well read." Ms. Kwan starts applause, and the rest of the class picks it up. I take my seat next to Emma, feeling satisfied.

"Okay." Ms. Kwan says. "Who wants to go next?"

"I'll go." Says Spinner, and he trots to the front of the room. He clears his throat. "Okay, so we were asked to find a verse that speaks to our hearts, and this verse, by Kid Elrick, speaks to mine." He unfolds a crinkled paper in his hand and reads it:

_I wants to find me a girl to love,_

_A girl with wealth and class._

_But most of all, I wants me a girl _

_With a bootylicious—_

"Enough, Gavin!" Ms. Kwan interrupts him before he can say "ass." Real mature, that Spinner kid. Everyone bursts into laughter as he returns to his seat. "Who's next?" Ms. Kwan continues.

"May I?" says a voice from behind.

I nearly jump at the sound, and turn around to see Rick slowly rising out of his chair. He walks steadily to the front of the class, and everyone watches him, a loud silence filling the room. He must have snuck into the room in the middle of presentations._ And perhaps avoiding confrontations from other students._

"Um, I'd like to read you some thoughts from Mahatma Gandhi." Rick tells us.

I catch Emma from the corner of my vision rolling her eyes.

Rick reads:

_The weak can never forgive._

_Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong._

_It is the quality of the brave, not the cowardly—_

Rick is also interrupted: by a paper ball as it lands on his chest and falls at his side. The students are laughing again.

"Gavin!" Ms. Kwan yells at Spinner, and she sends him to the principal's office. Rick returns to his seat as everyone continues to laugh, head bowed and scowl present.

At first I'm a little annoyed at Spinner's cute little stunt because he interrupted Rick, but then my light bulb clicks. So that's why he wanted to return to Degrassi! Inspired by Mahatma Gandhi much? Maybe even the Veggie Tales' version of Jonah?

I don't have much of a brain cramp anymore.

* * *

"Vivian!"

I'm at my locker loading up my backpack when Queenie comes over to me. "Are you okay? I'm sorry if Ivory or I said anything to offend you at lunch today."

"Don't apologize." I close the door to my locker. "I just had a brain cramp about today. Now that it's been cleared up, I'm prepared for my next one: from homework."

"Fair enough." Queenie remarks. "Look, I want us to go to The Dot to make up for Ivory's mess."

I laugh. "Listen to you! Ivory's _mess_? And you don't blame yourself for anything?"

"Ha!" Queenie scoffs. "All I did was ask a question! _You're_ the one who flipped out!"

"Don't push your luck, girl." I shove Queenie. "Now take me to this Dot place."

We leave from the main entrance of Degrassi and cross the crosswalk on the sidewalk right at the curb of the school. We walk down the road via sidewalk to the end of the street, which is nothing but grassy fields and vacant lots, until we turn the corner right.

A small building comes into focus, with all of the windows and doors tinted, making the place look shadowy and secretive, just like America's Applebee's or Chili's restaurant.

"Low and behold: The Dot." Queenie says. "A lot of kids from school are seen here."

"Fun." I say. "Would you like to go in first?"

"With pleasure." Queenie opens the door and I follow her in. The smell of crispy French fries, hamburger buns, and fried chicken tickles my nostrils, and my mouth waters, even though I'm not hungry enough for a full meal. Sure; let's pretend The Dot is Applebee's for now.

To my astonishment, Spinner approaches us. "Ladies," he says, "if only you had showed up the other day when I was working; you'd have better service."

"Really?" Queenie replies with a smirk. "Should I tell one of your co-workers you've insulted them?"

I smirk as Spinner backs up. "Why not? They know I'm the best waiter working here."

"Uh, Spinner, remember your girlfriend?" Paige walks over.

"Spinner was just showing us some hospitality." Queenie replies. "You have _nothing_ to worry about."

"Hey!" Spinner says.

"No offense, Spinner." I say. "It's just a matter of respect; nothing against you personally."

"Don't worry: he gets it." Paige grabs Spinner's arm and they sit at a table with two other people who also look like a couple. I recognize one of the two as the jock guy from the other day. I've also seen the girl before-with Paige most of the time. She has dark skin and brown hair. Emma's also with them; her plane-Jane, conservative look makes her an outlier in Paige's high-fashioned clique.

We're seated at a table for two, coincidentally across from Paige's table, and next to the Alex girl's table. She's seated across from a guy with a black leather jacket and a faded cap on backwards. I assume they're dating. A waiter in an all-black uniform approaches us and takes our order, and I ask for a strawberry milkshake; Queenie asks for a large order of fries.

"Can I have some of your shake?" she asks me.

"Only if you let me eat some of your fries," I reply.

"Agreed," we both lock pinkies.

The Dot gets five stars for fast service as both of our requests come in less than five minutes. I develop an affair with my shake: the taste is thick, rich and fruity, and it's cool and smooth as it goes down my throat. Five stars for good milkshakes too! Queenie's shoving fries into her mouth, rolling her eyes as she chews them. "You don't know what you're missing with these fries." She says.

"Same with this milkshake," I reply.

We both sigh. Hesitantly, we trade food. Queenie asks for another straw, and stabs it into my shake before she takes a sip. Her eyes grow wide as she takes a long pause, and at first I think she has a brain freeze until she speaks. "Ohhhhh, this shake is heaven in a glass!" She proceeds to gulp until I tell her to save some for me. The fries are well-seasoned and fresh, but they just don't beat the milkshake. Four stars.

All goes smoothly at The Dot—then Rick walks in. He heads to the counter, sits on a stool and orders something.

"What's he doing here again?" Paige asks in her sharp, snooty tone.

"He probably came to see his new crush: Emma." The Alex girl chimes in.

I turn around. Huh?

"What's she talking about?" Paige echoes my thoughts.

"Nothing," Emma answers, like a little girl getting in trouble for placing her hands in the cookie jar. "Rick talked to me. It was no big deal."

"It didn't seem that way to me." Alex turns back around.

"If you're starting to wimp out and feel sorry for that psycho"—Paige says.

"—I'm not. Honest." Emma says.

I squint at Queenie. What could Rick and Emma have been talking about? Whatever: it wasn't a friendly exchange surely. Queenie shrugs and proceeds to drink.

"Okay, let's trade. I miss my soul mate." I take the shake back and sip from my straw. I can taste Florida, Hawaii, and Jamaica all at once: it's so tropical.

When I hear a thud and a splat, my reverie ends. I turn and see everyone staring at Rick on the floor. He spilled—I think his coffee—all over himself. Most of it, thank goodness, hit the floor. If Rick had been burned, everyone would've known.

He stands up, infuriated (who wouldn't be if they spilled hot coffee?). Rick angry, however, is terrifying. His dark eyebrows nearly form a uni-brow over his glasses, and he stands up, glaring at Emma.

"That's it!" The boy with the cap stands up and rushes at Rick. He grabs him. "It's on." He says and pushes him out of the door.

The next thing I see is like a chain reaction: the entire Degrassi Gang ditches their food and follows Cap Boy out of The Dot, scrambling about like a group of wild animals.

Queenie and I watch the commotion; jaws dropped, and then look at each other. "I'm worried about how that'll turn out." She says. "They could seriously hurt Rick."

"Well then let's do something!" I leap out of my chair and rush to the counter. Queenie follows the group outside. "Can I have a coffee to go?" I ask the person behind the counter.

"Sure." The coffee doesn't take long, and I make sure the lid on the container is secure before I pursue the group outside. As I'm walking, I call my dad and tell him that something serious is going to happen to a kid in my class, and that I'll bring him home with me so he can check him for injuries. Listening to shouts from kids as my guide, I stumble across a crowd of people in the back alley of the neighborhood right behind The Dot.

I use my magic petite powers—expeditiously now that I'm holding hot coffee, to work my way to the front of the crowd. I see that Rick, a few feet away, is doubled over and coughing. Cap Boy is standing in front of him. Clearly he just knocked the wind out of Rick.

Finally, he stands up. "Who wants the next shot?" he taunts. "Spinner?"

Spinner starts to move forward, but Paige stops him. Instead, Alex is the one who says "Me!" and rushes towards Rick. Emma, however, rushes towards Alex and grabs her wrist just as she balls it into a fist. She's blocking her path to Rick. I can't hear the words they exchange, but eventually Alex and Cap Boy walk away, as does everyone else as Emma glares at the crowd. As they disperse, Queenie is revealed and she walks over to me._ That was impressive. _I think.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She says. "You take care of this." She puts a hand on my shoulder. "Use your 'magic petite powers'." She walks away.

Now all who's left is Emma, Rick, and me. I take a deep breath: I can't believe I'm doing this. Ignoring the sweat beading up on my face, I move towards the two. Both of them are staring at me, and that's when I realize that Rick's glasses are gone. His hazel eyes are pained and pleading. He looks pitiful, still hunched over from the punch he just took from Cap Boy.

I fish for words to say. "I-I called my dad on my way over here." I say. "He's had first aid training, and I thought he could check you over to make sure you're not seriously hurt." I look at Emma, who's staring blankly at me. "I told him we'd be at the bus stop a block from the Dot, so we'd better get a move on. You coming, Emma?" I clench my free hand into a fist, which is trembling from the excitement of the previous phenomenon.

"Can you stand?" Emma says sharply at Rick.

Wincing, he moves from the cardboard fence and walks forward. I lead the way out of the alley and onto the front street which is across from The Dot. I begin to walk down the block, pausing every so often to make sure Rick and Emma follow. I turn the corner left, and find the bus stop. The three of us sit on the bench with Rick in the middle. A relief washes over me as soon as we rest. I've been feeling guilty having Rick move around like that after he just took a blow to the stomach.

We sit amidst an orange sky. None of us say anything as we watch the cars flash by on the street—well, Emma and I watch the cars. Rick is staring down at his shoes. I steal glances at him, and each time he's zoned out, his eyes a million miles from Toronto. I imagine the guy has never been humiliated like this before in his entire life. He clearly isn't in the mood to talk, even though there's so much I want to ask him. I stay a good sport and leave him alone.

_Use your magic petite powers, Vivian_. Now the sound of nothing but the cars on the road is beginning to drive me insane. I want to do something to break this awkward silence. I suddenly find parts of Marianne Williamson's quote going through my mind. "_Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure... Actually, who are you not to be?"_

"Here." I say, and Rick snaps his head up. I take his hand, his moist clammy hand, and give him the coffee cup I bought for him earlier. He's frowning at me, probably baffled at this random act of kindness I've committed. I shrug. "Think of it as me returning a favor."

Rick's mouth opens as he prepares to speak.

"Don't thank me: just drink." I tell him.

And that he does. Emma is leaning forward on the bench watching him as I sit clasping my hands together. I've never felt so awkward than right now. I have to break the ice; I have to ask a question to get Rick to talk. "What happened to your glasses?" I say.

"Jay smashed them." Emma answers instead.

"Jay?" I echo.

"The guy with the baseball cap you saw." Emma explains.

I nod as I look down at my watch. "My father should be here soon." I say.

Like magic, Dad's blue mini-van pulls up in front of the bus stop. The window moves down and reveals my dad, a stout man with brown skin and hazel eyes. What do you know; there's no need to make painful conversation after all.

"Come on." I say to my classmates as I move towards the van. "Hi, dad. This is Rick and Emma."

Emma smiles and waves; Rick gives a half smirk and nods.

"Nice to meet you both." Dad says. "You two girls sit in the back seat, and Rick, I want you to sit up front."

We do what he asks, and soon we're off to my house. A part from my father asking Rick questions, nobody says anything during the ride. I think we're all taking in the bizarre turn of events that just happened in less than an hour.

* * *

The evening moved pretty swiftly. Nothing serious happened to Rick as my dad checked him over. Afterwards Rick called his mom to pick him up. Soon after he left, Emma's mom arrived for her. Now the house just has us: me and dad. It's been this way for almost two years with the exception of my older brother, who's attending his second year at Brown University.

Dad's sitting on our black sofa watching our flat screen. It's a quarter 'til ten, and I'm in my charcoal and blue Powerpuff Girl pajamas. I join dad on the couch and lean against his chest. He puts his arm around me. "Today was quite the adventure." I say.

"I would think so." Dad remarks. "You brought in two new faces, and by what that Rick kid told me, then it's definitely been a long day for him."

"It has." I look up at him. "What do you think of him, dad?"

"Who, Rick?" Dad says. "He seems like a nice kid. He's a little on the quiet side, but he's definitely very bright."

"Interesting." I say. "Everybody at school hates him."

"Why is that?"

"According to the students there, he was responsible for this girl's comatose." I explain.

"Who's the girl?" Dad asks.

"I don't know." I say. "Apparently a good friend to a group of kids at school. I don't think she's there anymore—"

"—Then Rick has no one to hurt." He says. "I spoke with his mother: according to her, he's seeing counselors at school and going through therapy. Clearly he's not very stable."

"The students don't care about that." I sit up and tell dad the entire story about the student body trying to get rid of Rick. I tell him about the ribbon campaign that Emma started and how it publicized Rick's abuse. Then I tell him about all of the times I've seen Rick harassed by students in the hallways and why I believe he came back to Degrassi.

"I think he knows what he did is wrong," I say, "and he wants people to forgive him, and if what you say about Rick going through therapy is true, I think he's trying to prove to everyone that he's not a terrible person."

"What about you?" Dad asks. "Were you a spectator in Rick's campaign? Did you participate in pushing him against lockers?"

"What? No way!" I say. "I didn't know Rick before, so I haven't seen this 'psycho' that everyone claims he is."

"Has he caused any harm since he came back?" Dad asks.

"No." I say. "Not that anyone would let him."

Dad cups my chin. "You did the right thing by not giving in to peer pressure like everyone else. I want you to forget about what everyone else says about him and use your judgment only. Can you reach a conclusion about him based on your influence only? On what you've seen?"

I close my eyes and think about the few times I've seen Rick, and compare the person I've witnessed to the monster that others describe him as.

"Yes." I open my eyes. "I can."

* * *

I find Emma at her locker the next morning. She's in a lime green, slim fitting pullover and black pants. I call her name as I walk over. She turns around and I hold out a dollar. "It's for the ribbon you gave me yesterday." I clarify.

"Keep it." She says. "I don't care anymore."

"You mean you don't care about ostracizing Rick anymore."

Emma pauses, looking over at me.

"Look, I couldn't help but notice you're not hanging out with Paige anymore," I continue, "and, no offense, but you really don't belong with her or her friends."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Emma says sharply.

"A good thing," I answer, "or do you want to be compared to girls whose heads are stuck so far up their butts they're too good to step up and do the right thing?"

"That may be true," Emma retorts, "but this doesn't change my opinion at all about Rick. And besides, they have a good reason not to step up: he hurt their friend."

"Maybe so," I shrug, "but I can tell just by your demeanor that you're not as shallow as Paige."

"How so?" Emma folds her arms.

"Because I actually like you." I say. "You can be a little annoying sometimes, but you're a good person all around." I chuckle a little.

Shockingly Emma smiles. "Fine. I'll admit I deserve that. Sheesh, you're more of a goody two shoes than I am."

I finger my braid. "Well I'm just—"

"No seriously." Emma says. "You made me look like a jerk when you gave Rick another cup of coffee after I tripped him."

"That was you?!" I say. "Then you _were_ a jerk! He could've burned himself!"

"Thanks for reminding me." Emma rolls her eyes. "Look Rick wants to thank you. He already thanked me earlier, so…be prepared if he approaches you."

I nod. "See you in class."

"Right." Emma walks away.

Emma Nelson: I'm starting to like her a little bit more for being able to stand up to Rick in front of all of her peers. It's admirable. I smile to myself, then remember what she said about Rick looking for me, and my stomach cramps. Oh no: what if he thinks I have a crush on him and gets the wrong idea? Nah, Rick just talked to Emma, and besides, he should know how lucky he is to even have someone concerned about him, let alone think about a new girlfriend.

Oh my goodness; I just had a bitch moment.

I make my way to my locker to dismount all of my items except for my textbook for chemistry class, and that's when I hear his soft voice.

"Vivian?"

I take a deep breath and turn to my left to face Rick. He's wearing a red and white-checked button down with a t-shirt the blend of a charcoal and a forest green. He's also wearing blue jeans with gray sneakers. The surprise is his glasses; the lenses are larger and the rims are a lot thicker than his previous ones. They're definitely from the _Saved by the Bell_ days.

"Hi," I greet him. "New glasses?"

Rick chuckles and a smile cuts across his face. "They're from the sixth grade." He replies.

"Wow, really?" I chuckle too.

He looks down and nods. "I um—I wanted to thank you for what you did yesterday." He inches closer, and I can smell him. Not that I expected him to smell bad, but I didn't expect him to smell…pleasant. Either his deodorant or his cologne bathed him in a scent of cinnamon and spice.

"No problem." I reply. "It was the right thing to do." It takes every ounce of my willpower to not lean into Rick and inhale him.

"You didn't really have to do all of that." He says.

"I know." I say. "Just like Jay didn't have to humiliate you like that. Speaking of which, is he the one responsible for your glasses?"

Rick holds his head down and nods.

"Seriously," I lighten my voice, "what happened to you yesterday was uncalled for, and I couldn't just sit there in The Dot and pretend that it wasn't happening."

Rick nods again. "Thank you, Vivian."

_Now's your chance, Vivian_. I think. _Ask him what you've been dying to know these past few days._

"Rick?" I say.

"Yeah?"

Now I look down at my shoes. "I—I'm new here, so I don't fully understand what everyone says about you…" I'm terrible at this. "About you putting this Terri girl in a coma…is that true?" I try to make my voice as gentle as possible.

Rick is giving me a hard stare. "Yes." He answers in a low, soft voice. He shakes his head. "I didn't mean for it to happen." His gaze is fixed on an invisible sight, probably painful memories from the past. "I let my anger get the better of me last year, and it caused me Terri." His voice shakes a little.

As much as I hate to, I need to ask him more questions. "But _how_ did it happen?" Again, I make sure my voice isn't pushy.

Rick closes his eyes. "I…was yelling at Terri while gripping her arms tightly. I was so angry that I pushed her down, and she—she fell and hit her head on a cinder block." He grabs the strap on his book bag with both hands and bites his lip. "When she didn't move, I thought she was dead. I remember thinking that I was going to go to jail and ruin my future, but when I found out she was in a coma, I visited the hospital every day until Terri's father told the hospital staff not to let me in." Rick's staring in the distance once again.

"So…you left Degrassi afterwards?" I say.

"I was expelled." Rick answers. "It's the best case scenario to happen to me; for someone to have put such a sweet, beautiful person near death…I felt relieved and remorseful at the same time."

I frown, taking in all of what he says. "So what made you decide to return?"

"To prove once and for all that I really have changed in the months following the incident." Rick replies, "And to return to a school that I really do enjoy…or used to. I didn't realize how many people actually hated me for what I did, but now that I know, I want them to see who I really am: not a horrible guy who hurts girls."

I feel goose bumps prickling across my arms. I was right about him. "Look Rick," I say, "I'm not here to judge you from last year because I wasn't here to see this 'psycho' people claim you are." I'm fidgeting my braid again. "But what I can do, based on what I've learned being at Degrassi, is judge you based on the person I see now, standing in front of me. I'm relieved to say that, just by your demeanor, I can tell that you sincerely are trying to change. Unfortunately, this isn't a popular opinion at Degrassi." I sigh.

"It will be." Rick replies. "Someday."

"I agree." I say. "But not today. I'm not saying that it's right for people to harass you, but…give them time."

Rick nods as the bell rings for class. "Crap!" I say. "I'm late for chemistry!" It's my first tardy of the year.

"With Ms. H?" Rick asks.

"Yeah."

"Me too." He says. "W-would you wanna—"

"—Sure." I walk to class with Rick.

Who else will?


	5. The Murray--Not the Adams--Family

**V. The Murray (Not the Addams) Family**

* * *

_"A part from the city lectures, Rick isn't at all a bad person."**  
**_

* * *

Student Council wants to interview me.

The interview's on Friday—two days from now, and I couldn't be more terrified. I've asked Queenie, Emma, Toby and even J.T. to do a mock interview with me.

Did I mention I'm also emotionally unstable? This past week I've cried at least once a day as I think of my mother who passed nearly two years ago. The anniversary of her death is also this Friday. Since her death, I've cried every time I've had a significant event happen in my life: singing at a concert, giving a speech, going to my first homecoming dance. I don't know why this happens to me: I guess it's because I would come to my mother for moral support before she passed, and I've missed that.

It happened during the mock that I had just before now. J.T. asked me a question about my support system, and I burst into tears. Everyone was confused as they glanced at each other; I told them I was stressed out about the interview and apologized for the breakdown. All of them bought it.

All of them but Queenie.

I should've known I couldn't fool her, especially after she pulled me aside after we were finished with the mock. "I told you," she said, "that even after our brief time spent with each other, I know what's bothering you, and it's not the interview."

What was the point? Queenie's worrisome; she wouldn't let up until she got the truth, so I confided in her about my mother's death. She would be the first person I told at Degrassi about it. She widened her eyes and recoiled after I explained it to her.

"You never told me that she died; only that she wasn't in your life. I took that to mean that your parents were divorced." She said.

Another tear streamed down my face. "It's too hard for me to talk about." I began to sob again. "I didn't mean to keep it from you, but—"

"—Okay, I understand." Queenie wrapped her arms around me. "I'll try not to bring it up until you're ready to talk about it, okay?"

"Thank you." I said shakily.

With help from Queenie, my breakdown ended quickly. She fills the absence of a sister I've never had and almost fills the absence of my mother. Almost.

Now that I'm done crying, I've left the library and am on my way to Mrs. Kwan's class. I'm walking down the main corridor with silver lockers flanking either wall. These are the sophomore lockers, or as they say in Canada, Grade 10 lockers. I'm about to make a right into Mrs. Kwan's room when I hear a loud bang, like someone who slammed their locker door shut. Quickly I realize, as I look to my left, that that isn't the case.

Jimmy, the jock kid who hangs out with Spinner and Paige, is holding Rick up against the locker. He has him by the shirt with both hands, and Rick's sneakers are a few inches off the floor.

"I told you: stay out of my sight, and you won't get jumped." He says. He lets him go, and Rick falls against the lockers. Jimmy glares at him as he walks down the corridor and turns the corner out of sight. Everyone who's in the hallway that stopped to witness the incident has now turned back to whatever they were doing before.

It's been two weeks since Emma stood up for Rick in the back alley of The Dot, and since then, the random acts of harassment have died down, but students like Spinner, Jay, and Jimmy remind me that there are still people who hate Rick. Each still have their fair share of bullying him.

Rick has picked himself up as I walk towards him. I'm not the only one having a rough day. "Come on." I say. "Let's go to class."

Side by side, we clear the distance to Mrs. Kwan's room, and I follow Rick to the back of the room as we sit adjacently at a small table. Usually I don't sit with Rick for this very reason (I'm too short to look over the heads of the students in front of me); however he draws less attention by sitting in the back of the room coming in earlier rather than the polar opposite. Because we have a few minutes to spare, I take advantage of this opportunity to talk with Rick. I try to talk to him at least once a day, but lately I've been so preoccupied with student council business I haven't spoken to him since last Friday.

I pat his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Rick's voice is as high as mine's when he replies.

I nod. "Good." It's obvious he doesn't want to talk about what just happened in the hall; not that I blame him, but I wonder if he feels lonely: every time I see him in the halls, he's traveling alone, or even worse: he sits by himself in the cafeteria. No one's trying to kick him out anymore, but the only people who acknowledge he's there are the ones who bully him. Lately I've served as Rick's acquaintance, but I know he needs more than that.

We choose to talk about the easiest thing in the world: our reading assignment. There are no strings attached, and it turns out we're both obsessed with the plot of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. Rick's hazel eyes are bright and glossy when we discuss the irony of the play. Luckily our conversation only temporarily ceases as Ms. Kwan encourages us to work with a partner to fill out a worksheet about the story. Rick's an artsy guy in touch with his feminine side, huh? I'll log that away. Not long after we finish the worksheet, Rick and I veer off topic.

"Um…my mother and I can help you prepare for your interview." Rick says lightly.

He catches me off guard so suddenly I drop my pencil on the floor. "What?"

Rick frowns, looking confused. "Don't you have an interview with student council soon?"

"I do, but how did you know?"

"I heard about it from Emma and, uh, Toby." Rick replies.

Maybe he has been talking to more people than what I gave him credit for.

"I didn't mean to stalk you—"

"—No, it's alright." I say. "Sorry for not mentioning it to you. Just the thought of it stresses me out."

I'm clasping both hands in my lap. I REALLY want to be on the council based on my experience from last year. It brought me out of my shell, and diverted my feelings from the strong grief I was feeling for my mother's loss. Now I want to share that experience with Degrassi. _How_ I'm going to do that is still vague.

"Well, you don't have a reputation of being a psycho, so…" Rick lowers his voice. "You're better off than some people."

"Rick…" I look at him. He's opened his Julius Caesar book, but I can tell he isn't reading it as he frowns. "You're _not_ a psycho."

"Tell that to the entire school." Rick mutters.

"When I join student council, I will." I put a hand on his shoulder. "And yes, I would appreciate your help." I smile at him. He smiles back.

The bell rings, confirming the end of the day and everyone scatters.

"So when are you free, Vivian?" Rick stands up and straps his messenger across his shoulder.

"Now's actually a good time." I stand up with my backpack. "Do you mind if I practice this afternoon with you and your mom?"

"Not at all." He replies. "Do you want to…come home with me?"

I pause. For some reason leaving with Rick alone never occurred to me before now. I just hope no one bothers us as we leave the school. "Why not?" I say cheerily.

Rick smiles again with his cheeks bulging, making him look a little younger. Innocent. It's a sweet smile, and I'm surprised that he can appear so…endearing. I smile back. "Let's go then."

"Actually, I, uh, like to wait until the halls are empty before I leave." Rick says. "We can stay in Ms. Kwan's room if you want and do homework." He looks away, and it breaks my heart. I know why he wants to linger for a moment or so.

* * *

I never knew Rick could talk so much. As he drives me to his home in a granite-colored mini-van (his mom's), he names every street we pass on the way there. Why do I bother telling people that I'm from out of town? A part from the city lectures, Rick isn't at all a bad person. When I ask what he's most passionate about (I've had enough of Tour Guide Murray), he tells me theater, and how much of a learning experience it's been for him and his mother. He tells me that he's been desperate to be a part of theatrics since he was five years old, playing Indiana Jones with his father in their backyard. I want to ask about his parents, wondering when he acquired an abusive streak, but I decide against speaking about it. This conversation between us is going too well. Instead I tell him about my passion and joy for music, then move on to talk about my friends Queenie and Ivory. I don't use their names because I don't think it's relevant for Rick to know them. I still don't know him well enough yet to trust him with all of the information I give him, even though I'm starting to believe Rick's word above everyone else's. I mean shouldn't Rick be the person who knows himself best? Who's opinion could be more credible than from the person who everyone is talking about?

Finally we arrive at his house: a brick, two-story structure with a triangular roof and a deep green door. There are two houses on either side of his that look similar, and all of the lawns are rich in green. Rick steps out of the car and quickly moves to my side and opens the door. "This is it." He says.

"It's pretty." I reply as I step out of the car.

"Ah, but you haven't seen the inside, m'lady." Rick offers me a hand and I take it. He squeezes mine so tightly that I waggle it in order for him to loosen his grip. Now I wish I hadn't held his hand: it's like we're a couple. Nonetheless, I hang on to it since he's doing me a favor, and besides, Rick deserves a friend.

"Don't worry." We're at the front door when Rick speaks again. "You're in good hands with us. We'll help you out." His thumb runs over the back of my hand rhythmically and I shudder. Either Rick's _really_ excited to have a friend over, or he's _really_ excited to have a girl over. Oh, that's right: I'm BOTH. Rick knocks on the door with his free hand and I can feel his thumb move down to my palm where he also strokes its surface. I look at him and he smiles at me. "Don't be nervous." He says.

I smile back. _Too late, Rick_. I plead for Mrs. Murray to open the door in my mind.

My wish is granted, and a tall, blonde woman is revealed. Her hair is a little past shoulder-length and flipped. She's wearing a short-sleeve black V-neck and black slacks with white, open-toed scandals. It's Rick's mom; I remember her from the first day of Rick's return. "Hello." She says cheerily, smiling at me. Her pale eyes are glossy, like Rick brought home gold.

"Hi, mother. This is my good friend Vivian." Rick introduces us. "Vivian, this is my mother."

"It's really nice to meet you, Mrs. Murray." I extend my hand, the one that Rick was holding, to her. Instead, she folds her arms around me in a warm embrace. Astounded, I hug her back.

"It's great to finally meet you, sweetie." She runs a hand through my hair. "Ricky has told me so much about how gracious you and your father were to him."

I nod. "It was the right thing to do, and besides, my dad has medical training, so I couldn't let someone go injured knowing there was something I could do about it."

"You're a good girl." Mrs. Murray says. "Come in, please." She steps aside, and Rick puts a hand on my back and leads me inside of his home.

We enter the living room area and sit on a dark brown couch with floral-patterned pillows. I'm sitting in between Mrs. Murray, who's on my right, and Rick. Suddenly he springs up. "Mother, you can talk to Vivian to get to know her better, and I'll get us some tea."

"I hate to sound rude, but can I have water instead?" I ask.

"Sure thing, m'lady." Rick says before he hurries away.

It's the second time he's called me that. I think it's kind of cute. It's quirky, but cute. I turn towards Mrs. Murray who says, "Ricky's very excited to help you." I now realize that she has an accent of some sort.

I smile at her. "I'm very grateful for what you and your son are both willing to do." I say. "Thank you so much."

"I should be grateful for all that you have done." Mrs. Murray puts a hand on the side of my face. "Thank you for being friends with my Ricky. Your father should be proud to have such a sweet daughter."

I smile. "Thank you." There's a lump in my throat: I can only imagine the agony that Mrs. Murray had to have gone through because of Rick. Does she blame herself for what happened? I'm floored by how affectionate she is: much like my own mother before…no, can't think about that. "I hope you don't mind me asking, Mrs. Murray, but…has therapy made a visible change to Rick? He's mentioned it once before, and I just wanted to know."

Mrs. Murray gives me a serious stare. "It was very frustrating for him to come to terms and finally accept what he did was wrong, and what's more was that he was a bad person in the public's eye. After he…hurt that girl, I took him out of Degrassi in order for him to get the help he needed. I know my son better than anyone else, and I knew those actions didn't reflect the sweet boy I knew in the least. Ricky feels the same way. He's been so determined to prove himself to everyone else, and I think it's working; you came home with him."

I soak this all in when Rick returns with a silver tray and shiny red teacups full of tea (and water for me). He places the tray on the brown coffee table and hands us our cups. "Your water at special request, Vivian." He says as he hands me my cup.

"Thank you, Rick." I say. "Now what was it that you both had in mind for me to do?"

"Well," Rick replies, "We figured that you could learn some acting techniques that can be applied to any type of performance if you think about it."

"For instance, breathing is an important concept to remember." Mrs. Murray extends. "It sounds silly, but you should remember to take deep steady breaths whenever you're under stress."

"The tonality of your voice is also very important." Rick adds. "Inflecting your voice while you speak makes you sound more interesting; engaged; enthusiastic, and so on."

I nod and sip my water. This is helpful: tiny details that I could look over might cost me my position on the council.

"Would you like for us to ask you some questions for practice?" Mrs. Murray says. "They're not necessarily ones that may be asked of you, but any questions will do to practice these exercises."

"Okay." I nod. "I'm ready."

"Just remember to breathe steadily." Rick reminds me.

Mrs. Murray begins. "Okay first question: tell me about your mother."

And then I burst like a water main break. I don't see it coming, and I can't control it now as tears stream down my face.

"Vivian?" Mrs. Murray frowns in concern.

My lip quivers. "I'm sorry." I manage to say before I start to sob softly. Rick edges closer to me and puts his hands on my shoulders. "Mother, can you get some tissues?" he says.

"Absolutely." Mrs. Murray leaves the room.

I'm alone with Rick who's rubbing my shoulders now. "Did we stress you out more?" He asks softly. "I'm sorry."

I want to tell him it's my mother's memories that are causing me to cry, but I shake my head, unable to speak. Fortunately I don't sob too hard, but I still can't talk as I start to take slow, steady breaths.

"That's right." Rick's encourages, "keep breathing steadily. It'll be okay." He rubs my back in circles, and it causes me to relax in a weird way. I never imagined that-of all people that could console me-Rick would be one. He barely knows me, and yet here I am in his house with him caressing me. I let the sensation of his hands on my skin comfort me. Mrs. Murray returns with a blue box of Kleenex. She takes a tissue and dabs my eyes with it.

Finally I draw in a breath and speak. "Mrs. Murray, I promise you it was nothing you or Rick did that made me cry. It's my mother: the anniversary of her death is the day of the interview, and I can't stop thinking about her." My voice cracks on the last few words and more tears stream down my face. "It's so hard for me to talk about her." I bite back a sob only for it to escape. Rick squeezes my shoulders, and I continue to breathe steadily. It's working, to my astonishment, the more I concentrate.

"I'm sorry for your lost." Mrs. Murray says. "Would you like to go home?"

"No, no, I'm fine." I wipe my eyes and snivel. "I want to do this." I exhale. Rick's hand moves to my back again as he rubs it once more. "You asked about my mother," I pause, "but can I talk about my father instead?"

Mrs. Murray smiles. "Of course."

I begin talking about my dad, and the more I speak about him, the better I feel. Then I speak of my closest friends at Degrassi: Queenie and Ivory. As soon as I talk about old friends from my hometown in Chicago, I become animated again. During our conversation, Rick has gone in and out of the room to arrange hors' devours for us: crackers, grapes, and sliced apples. He personally hands me a green sliced apple from the silver tray before he sets it down. I sink my teeth into the very sweet fruit.

"They'll adore you." Mrs. Murray says when we're through. "Just be cautious of breaking down, and get it out of your system before you're interviewed."

I nod. "Okay." I stand up and wrap my arms around her. "Thank you so much. Sorry about my little episode."

"Anytime, dear." She pats my back. "I'll leave it to Ricky to get you home."

I look at Rick who bows. "At your service." He says, and I chuckle a little. I follow him outside to the car, which is a shade darker due to the slowly-turning-orange sky. Rick opens the passenger door for me, and I climb in. By the time he's in the driver's seat, his mother has approached his window. He puts the keys in the ignition, and the engine hums to life. Then he rolls down the window, and his mom kisses his cheek. "Drive safely." She says. "Good night, Vivian. Good luck with student council." she says to me.

"Thank you!" I say over the engine while Rick backs out of the driveway. "Goodnight!" The van takes us down the block and onto the main road. I'm the first of speak after several awkward smile exchanges. "I didn't know how much of a sweetheart you were until now. Thanks, Rick, for being so generous this afternoon."

"Thank _you_, Vivian, for letting me help you." Rick replies. "And I'm sorry about your…mother." Quickly he glances at me as if he's afraid of my reaction.

"It's alright." I say. "I've done enough crying to last me a month. I owe another thanks to you and your mother for being able to comfort me after that—spontaneous breakdown." I chuckle.

"Don't feel bad; I'm glad you were able to get it out of your system." Rick says.

We've arrived at my house as we pull into the driveway in front of the garage, which is alongside my dad's two-story craftsman cottage. The front of the house is sheltered by the roof sloping down from above, creating a cozy porch as one climbs up the steps. The house itself is made of wood while the porch surrounding it is composed of old brick. Green plants of all kind surround the house, making it appear secretive after twilight hours.

I unbuckle my seat belt and reach for the door when Rick says, "No, let me get the door for you." He takes off his seat belt and climbs out of the car, and I watch as he moves around the front and opens my door. He holds out his hand. "May I walk you to the door?"

I smile. "Sure." Slowly I place my hand in his, and thankfully it's not a strong grip as I step down from the minivan and move across the path to the stairs onto the front porch. Dad hasn't turned on the lights yet, but it's getting dark gradually, and he usually has them on before now. Daddy...?

I turn and face Rick. "It's Degrassi's lost," I say, "if they don't know what a sweet person you are. I know that you're not the 'psycho' everyone thinks you are. Thanks again for today." There's something I want to do, but I don't want him to get the wrong idea when I do it.

"It's like what you said before: think of it as me returning a favor." Rick replies with a smile.

Ah, what the heck? It's the least I can do after this afternoon. I close the distance between us and hug Rick, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. My hug is only briefly one-sided when Rick slowly encircles my waist and pulls me closer, squeezing me tightly with warm arms. I squeeze him back. I can smell his hair as I rest my chin on his shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow." I rub his back. "Drive safely."

Rick's smiling from ear to ear after we pull away from the hug. "Night, madam." He says and waves as he goes down the stairs. I wave back at him and watch as he climbs into his car. I listen to the engine awaken as I fumble for my keys in my purse. Dad, however, opens the door before I can take them out. He steps aside as I come in.

"Did he hurt you?" He says as he closes the door.

"What?"

"The Rick boy you were just with." Dad explains, "Did you feel safe around him?"

"Of course!" I answer. "He was very chivalrous this afternoon."

"So I saw." Dad sighs. "I should've known you would start dating boys sooner or later."

"Whoa, I'm not dating him!" I say.

"Then what was that hugging all about?" Dad says.

"Hey! You were _watching _us!?" No wonder the porch light wasn't on.

Dad shrugs. "I am your father, and you are a minor."

"Daddy," I say, "Rick just needs a friend, and I was thanking him for what he did this afternoon. Everyone needs a hug once in a while." Gah, I'm so corny!

I can't let my guard down around dad (yet), but the thought DOES cross my mind every blue moon. Can Rick be trusted to date girls again? Is it too soon to conclude that Rick won't hurt another person? I can still feel his hands on my shoulders, my back when he comforted me while I was crying: his movements were rhythmic, gentle, and strong and assuring…

Dammit. Okay, so I like him a little bit, but I'm not looking for that type of relationship. I just want to be his friend, which he needs more than some girlfriend. It's probably nothing: I'm just taken aback by how sweet Rick was this evening. I was sort of expecting someone with a background like his to project a dejected, dull diposition. Instead he was lively and quick to come to my assistance. I tell dad this.

"Okay." He says, "But should you go to the next level—and I know you will—I'm keeping a close eye on you two."

I roll my eyes. "Right, dad." Under the surface, what people say about Rick terrifies me now. I don't want to think of what he did to Terri just a few months ago and compare that Rick to the one I was just with. Unless he truly IS a psychopath and manipulating me into thinking that he's changed so he can strike again (man, that's a disturbing thought), he's a different person than what others have described him as. He just needs help—and a second chance.


	6. A Nancy Drewback

_**Notice: This chapter contains a snip of dialogue from Degrassi's "Islands in the Stream" episode. I want to clarify that I'm a disclaimer of all of the Degrassi characters from the show.**_

**VI. A Nancy Drewback**

* * *

_"I'll leave it at this: you can either be friends with Rick, or me."_

* * *

Success!

I'm officially a member of student council. It terrifies me a little that Alex Nuñez is the vice president, but whatever; Marco's the president, so I'm relieved. I've spilled the beans to everyone I know: Manny and Queenie (double-hugged me), Ivory ("Congrats, girl"), Emma (pat on the shoulder), Toby (hug), and Rick (another hug).

I found Rick alone in the library when I told him, and he hugged me tightly. I took in the scent of his hair, which tickled my nose while we hugged.

"I knew you'd get in." he said in my ear.

"Thanks to you." I said in his.

I distinctly remember this moment because of what I saw once I looked over his shoulder. On the table he was sitting at laid a large, lavender poster with a green and yellow border and blue print.

"What's that on your desk?" I asked him. "That purple poster?"

Rick let me go and looked back as well. "Oh, this?" he went over and held up the flyer. "It's a poster for the Whack-Your-Brain tryouts."

"Whack-Your-Brain?" I echoed.

"It's for Degrassi's trivia team." Rick explained. "They do it annually, so I'd thought I'd take a whack at it." he chuckled at the corny joke.

I did too. "Best of luck to you, but you're a smart cookie, so what you need is skill. I believe in you!" I smiled.

Rick smiled back. He didn't speak, but his expression told everything.

_I like you too,_ _Rick,_ I thought.

* * *

Now, as I'm a part of student council, Whack-Your-Brain is the discussion item for today's meeting, which is in the gym, and all of the new members have to wear these golden, oval-shaped pins embroidered with the letters "S" and "C". As Marco discusses the different committees for setting up the show, one of the new members that I'm sitting next to hands me a lavender piece of paper containing a list—or petition. I glance at it: someone's collected twenty-six signatures out of...three hundred!?

I read the description at the top:

_Petition voicing student support to take Rick out of Degrassi_

Seriously? Even student council kids are involved in the anti-Rick movement? Still? I roll my eyes and pass the stupid petition on.

Marco announces the agenda for the semester. Next, the new members stand and recite the "Oath of Council" in order to be sworn in. It's a formal process in an informal setting.

"Alright, guys next meeting: we decide on our homecoming theme and our committees for the Whack-your-brain competition, which will take place in this very gymnasium!" Marco says enthusiastically. We all chuckle. "Have a good afternoon, guys."

The group disperses; I grab my backpack and make my way towards the door when Alex calls my name.

"I remember seeing you at The Dot," she says, "but not last year. You new?"

I nod. "I'm originally from Chicago."

"Where exactly is Chicago?" Alex scrunches her eyebrows.

"Uh, in Illinois. The Midwest: borderline east side of the United States."

"Hmm." she replies. "You said you served on Student Council, right? We could use your ideas from your outside student council experience."

I nod. "Happy to give some pointers whenever you need them."

I want to ask Alex about whoever behind the anti-Rick petition, but I decide to avoid that drama altogether. I really don't want to tick Alex off my first day being a part of StuCo. I smile and wave goodbye as I leave the gym.

_When will this nonsense end?_ I shake my head. This has got to stop.

* * *

Ms. Kwan wants me to deliver a bundle of worksheets to Mr. Simpson's class. Well today, he's holding auditions for Whack-your-brain, a term that's become all too familiar with me in just a few days.

I slowly open the door as Mr. Simpson speaks, "Ah, welcome to the annual tryouts for Degrassi's trivia team. Now I want you to all partner up, and we're gonna start with a little warm-up."

Slowly I walk over to him. "Mr. Simpson?" I hold up the worksheets. "You asked for these?"

"Perfect timing, Vivian." he replies and takes the papers. "Just when I needed these. Don't go away: I need you to take something back for Ms. Kwan now.

"And what's that?" I follow him over to where, coincidentally, Rick and Toby are hovering over one computer.

"What's the world's largest glacier?" Snake asks them.

As Toby answers, I glance at Rick's computer screen.

And gape at what I find.

There's a series of names on a list named "Top Twenty." And I'm ON it. I'm the sixth on this list of whatever we're being ranked. I don't know what to think. I'm even more shocked when I discover Queenie's name's there as well! She's number eight. And Ivory's here too? Yep: beneath me at seven. I glance at the five people who ranked higher than me. Three are Manny, Emma, and Ms. Hatzilakos!? What the hell!? All of these are girls' names.

"Vivian." Simpson says.

"Yeah?" I say loudly, making Toby and Rick snap their heads around. I smile at them, trying to act casual.

"The worksheets are this way." Mr. Simpson points at his desk and gestures for me to follow. I obey, reluctantly leaving the guys behind.

"Psst, Vivian." I jerk my head to the right and catch Ivory waving at me. I smile and wave back. Does she know about the list? Or anyone else associated with it? Nancy Drew's back!

"Here you are." Snake hands me paper-clipped, lavender flyers, like the one I saw Rick with the other day. "They're for her to give to Marco and his council in order to hang up."

"You know, I could hand these to Marco myself: I'm a StuCo member."

"Well," Snake puts his hands on his hips playfully. "Wouldn't that be so much easier? Now the burden's on you."

"No problem." I chuckle. "Have a good day."

I leave, thinking about the list. I want to talk to somebody about what I saw, but I have a feeling that list is not for the public to know. I pause. No way: did RICK make that list? Should I ask him about it? What's he ranking? Great, more dancing questions. Nancy Drew's second case is on the brink.

During lunch, I find Toby and decide to ask him about the list. Fortunately, he's alone. I hurry towards him with my tray and call his name.

Toby has this goofy grin on his face that I'm no stranger to. "You know, I'd thought you'd see what a catch I am."

I elbow him. "You clown." I smile. "Look, remember when I walked into Simpson's class this morning and saw you and Rick? You guys were hovering over a computer with my name on a list, where I was number six, and I'm curious: what were you looking at?"

"Who, me?" Toby adjusts his glasses. "I don't know; it's not mine's."

"Don't play dumb." I say, then lightly add. "Come on, Toby, give me credit here: my name's there, and I just want to know why."

"Fine." Toby smiles. "But I hope you can handle this."

"I'm certain I can." I reply. "And I won't tell Rick you said anything."

"Okay." Toby says in this "don't say I didn't warn you" tone. "It's a list Rick made of his top twenty crushes at Degrassi." he tells me.

"Top_ twenty_?" I repeat. "I didn't know someone could like that many people at once!"

"Uh, I think it's just all of the girls he's seen or knows," Toby clarifies, "and he has them in order of preference."

"Oh." How should I feel about this? Flattered that I made his list, or disgusted that he even MADE a list? Not to mention I'm his sixth choice, which creates more confusion for my emotions. According to Rick, I'm no match with Emma, Manny, Heather Sinclair, and some other chick I don't know, but six out of twenty is pretty high...ugh, I'm sick to my stomach.

"So...he has the biggest crush on Ms. Hatzilakos?" I say. "That's... interesting." Guess he has a thing for blondes.

Toby shrugs. "And you're number six, but personally, I'd rank you higher." he puts an arm around me.

"Um...thanks?" I shrug his arm away. "Look, this stays between you and me."

I walk with Toby to a vacant table, and soon we're accompanied by Emma. She has a large plate of salad, dominated by spinach leaves.

"Are you a vegetarian?" I ask her. I've never seen her with a ham and cheese sandwich, not to mention how skinny she is.

"Yep." she answers. "Lacto-Ovo-vegetarian, so I eat everything else but meat."

I nod. "Were you always one, or did you switch recently?"

"My mom's a vegetarian, so I've always been one." she replies. "Are you?"

I shake my head. "No offense, but I really love meat."

"None taken." Emma replies as Rick joins our table. He sits between Toby and me. I glance at him, and to my astonishment, his face is completely red as he scowls. I notice a large dark spot in the center of his dark blue shirt.

"What happened?" I ask softly.

"Jay." he retorts in a low soft voice. "He knocked my soup onto my shirt."

"Are you okay?" I say gently.

"In the end, I always am—physically anyway." Rick answers bitterly.

Immediately I think of the petition that was passed around the council yesterday, and the time he dropped his hot coffee. This kid can't go a day without forgetting that he's the "scum" of Degrassi.

_Why should you feel sorry for him? It's not like you're a priority to_ him! My deviant conscious yells at me, making me a little sour. _So the hell what?_ I counter. _He's a teenage boy with hormones just like everyone else, which is hard to believe when you o__stracize __him for business that's none of your own._

I sigh. The righteous side of me wins and I stand up from the table. "I'll be back." I say.

There's a t-shirt in my backpack that I use for recreational purposes. It belonged to my older brother, so it's HUGE on me, but I think it can fit Rick. I walk over to the double doors of the cafeteria and push them over, walking towards my nearby locker. It doesn't matter what he ranks me for as dating material: I'm his friend, and he needs me. I open my locker and pull the old shirt that belonged to my brother: a gray, crew-neck. I then make my way back towards the cafeteria, but before I can go inside, I find a girl blocking my path: Ivory.

I smile at her, only to stop when I notice she's frowning with her arms crossed. Despite the frown she wears, the ponytail she has makes her look fantastic.

"Hey." I greet her. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing." Ivory's sarcasm makes me nervous. "It's just that I saw you sitting in the cafeteria with _him._"

I sigh. Good grief. Calmly I reply. "Yeah, well _he_ happens to be a really sweet person if you take the time to get to know him."

"Really, Vivian?" Ivory shakes her head. "I thought you were smarter than that."

"Excuse me?" I say.

"Maybe you've forgotten why no one likes him," Ivory replies. "He. Put. A girl. In. A _Coma_! He's dangerous, Vivian, can't you see that?"

"I know." I say evenly, but sharply. "And what he did was awful, but he isn't dangerous."

"So you decided to befriend a psycho." Ivory scoffs. "A smart choice on your part."

I can feel my cheeks burning with indignation, and my hands trembling. "You're in no position to determine if anyone's a psychopath!" I counter. "And it just so happens that he _isn't_ one!" I raise my voice.

"Alright, fine." Ivory says. "I'll leave it at this: you can either be friends with Rick, or me."

I stare at her incredulously. Who does she think she is?

I answer, "Ivory, technically you do have a pussy, but you could still just come out and say that you don't want to be my friend anymore. Thanks for showing me how shallow you truly are. Now I don't have to waste my time with you."

I walk around her into the cafeteria, fuming after that confrontation. I try and keep calm as I sit down and hand my shirt to Rick. "Put it on whenever you get the chance." I say.

He looks shocked, then he turns towards me. "Thank you, Vivian." he smiles a warm smile; a sweet smile.

For the first time I struggle to return it. "Anytime, Rick."

Playing Nancy Drew backfires: I've sniffed out drama, and now I'm caught in the middle of it. At least I know who my real friends are.*

* * *

**Housekeeping: I've inserted Toby into this chapter, and it was fun writing the interaction between him and Vivian, if you're still reading, pocksuppet :)! Is the plot moving too slow for you all? I know I've written a lot, but there's still more to come. Hope you're enjoying it:)  
**


	7. The One with the Gold

**I appreciate everyone's feedback with my story! The plot for this chapter was difficult to write, but here it is at last!**

**VII. The One with the Gold**

* * *

**_"He's just as bad as he claims you are!"_**

* * *

_I am five years old._

_I take my brother's hand as he leads me down the stairs of the bus as it arrives in front of our home: a white, brick-faced house. Vince, who's nine, walks us to the front door that hovers above us, the afternoon sun sliding past the windows and reflecting the light at us. I always thought that was our house's way of welcoming us home from school everyday like a third parent._

_We needn't open our tall, white door as our mom is revealed on the other side, smiling with her pearly white teeth and thick, fluffy black hair. Hair that looks beautiful when she curls it every morning. Her brown skin seems glossy in the sunlight. I hug her. She smells of vanilla and coconut: that's the fragrance she wears, but I think of it as vanilla ice cream._

_"Mommy!" I cry in my shrill, five-year-old voice. "I wrote my whole name today at school!" I'm triumphant. Do you know how hard it is to write _Vivian Rosario Graham_ at five years!? I show mommy my paper._

_"Oh, you're a big girl now!" she squeezes me and I smile, saturated with pride._

_"Yeah, well I'm the only kid in my class who can multiply with fractions!" Vince boasts. That show off. He always has something better to tell mommy! No matter how much older I'll get, he'll always be four whole years older!_

_"Very good, Vince!" Mommy plants a huge kiss on my brother's forehead. She draws an arm around each of us. "I have two of the smartest kids in the world." she says warmly. "Let's go inside. I have a treat for your hard work."_

_Mommy gently pushes me inside, pointless as I race for the couch. "Take off your shoes, Vivian." she reminds me and I do in a hurry, tangling up my shoelaces in the process. Mommy turns on the television, and Vince's and I's favorite cartoon pops up._

_"Rugrats!" we both say as a moving image of Chuckie, the kid with the wild red hair, talks to Tommy._

_"That's not the surprise." I get up and follow Mommy into the kitchen. Vince follows me soon after as Mommy goes to the refrigerator and opens it. "One for you, and one for you." I can hardly believe it: we're holding Juicy Juice boxes! And it's apple—my favorite. I don't think Vince likes apple juice so much, but he's still smiling. "Thanks, mom." he says as he stabs the straw in the hole after one punch and sips it._

_Apple juice is a treat in our house because the juicy juice brand "costs too much money." The phrase is slow and choppy in my memory because that's the way daddy would tell me._

_I try to mimic Vince's way of puncturing the box; trying to keep up with all of the things he does is exhausting! He always makes it look so easy. I guess it is when you don't have baby hands like mine. I realize the difficulty when I try and jab my straw into the juice box for the first time: I make a dent. The second time: same thing. The third time—a little faster—I miss the entire box. Fourth time. Fifth time. POP! I puncture more than what I need on my sixth try, and red juice flows out of the box, like a river breaking through a dam._

_Wait a minute...red juice? I thought mommy gave us apple juice._

_An earsplitting scream erupts in the kitchen, piercing like a cross between a falcon and a cat. I don't recognize this as Mommy's until Vince cries, "Look what you did!"_

_I look up and see my mother with a large hole in between her collar bones—slanted and ragged like the one I punctured my juice box with. Dark blood rushes from the wound, rapid as if a pipe had burst. It soaks mommy's blue work suit, coloring it purple as it travels down like a waterfall. She chokes and coughs and more blood spills from her mouth. She collapses on the floor and the blood continues to flow, like a water faucet and it pools around her, staining the white floor. It spreads across slowly, expanding its artwork._

_Petrified, I watch in horror at my mom, coughing and convulsing at the same time. Lying in the dip of the kitchen floor that previously wasn't there, the blood level rises around her in a bloody bath._

_"Mom!" Vince screams at the top of his lungs. It's a scream I've only heard in horror movies I've seen my parents watch. Her entire body is engulfed in her own blood as it continues to rise around her. Vince then faces me and grabs my shirt with both hands, lifting my blood-stained socks off the floor. "This is all your fault!"_

_I let his words consume me as I continue to stare at Mommy, now only visible from the nose up, gurgling against her own blood. Her eyes bulge out at me, wide and terrified._

_"This is all your fault!" The words come out of Vince's mouth, but the voice is my own, reverberating off the walls as if they were spoken from a podium._

_"This is all your fault!"_

* * *

The cry still rings in my mind once I open my eyes with a jolt, and tears slowly follow. I'm all too familiar with this dream—this horror film that plays through my mind over and over.

But it's been six months since I had it.

The very first time it came to me was during the first anniversary of my mother's death. There were different versions, but the same confusing, gory plot overall. I stay planted in bed on my back as I let the hot, stinging tears flow down from my eyes to my ears. I reach down on the floor for my black raggedy-Ann (a gift from my mom) and kiss it for comfort. Six months exactly. Why did the dream come back? Six months I slept peacefully.

It makes perfect sense: the anniversary of my mom's death brought back painful memories from inside our house; the dreams started; I couldn't function properly; and we moved away for a fresh start. I remember my freshman year hastily preparing for my final exams that I had to take in April earlier this year. Vince had the convenience of going to Rhode Island to attend Brown, of getting away, but dad and I didn't.

The return of the dream just doesn't fit into this equation! I close my eyes trying to clear my mind, but I can feel that horrible dream waiting for me in the unconscious world, seducing me into reliving that traumatic moment, and I continue to sob in the dark until, finally, I slip into a choppy, but dreamless sleep.

When I wake up, I climb up into our attic: I don't go to the bathroom, I don't make my bed; I just move impulsively to the attic.

Our attic isn't the typical, pile-your-junk-ceiling-high attic. It's arranged much like a room forever waiting to be occupied. A reddish pink carpet blankets the floor. Along the two parallel walls stand two bookshelves crammed with all sorts of almanacs, magazines, and literary classics. A tiny, violet love seat sits in between the shelves, accompanied by a golden floor lamp, the shade the shape of flower petals, only an emerald green. It looks like a wilted green rose. On the opposite side of the love seat sits a small desk with a large photo of my mother, smiling with her perfectly straight white teeth and her big, dark hair and dark brown skin.

I turn on the lamp and sit on the couch, and come down on something hard. Startled, I leap up and discover a locket sitting there. It's cream-colored and embellished in shiny gold flowers, sitting in a navy colored box. I lift it up, shocked that it's heavier than it looks. Slowly, I open it up and find a photo of my mother inside, holding me as a baby. I appear to be about six months old wearing a yellow sundress, matching the color of my mom's dress, and wearing a white sun hat. I'm not staring at the camera at all like my mom, but I'm intrigued at the daisy she's holding and reaching for it.

Is this...for me? Instinctively, I fasten the gold chain around my neck. It is now.

* * *

I show my locket to Queenie when I stop at her locker during school.

"So pretty." she coos as she runs her fingers over the shiny gold while I wear it.

"Open it." I say softly.

Manny soon hovers over Queenie's shoulder as they both stare at the photograph inside. "Awwww." they say in unison.

I smirk and roll my eyes.

"You were such a cute baby!" Queenie squeals.

"Is that your mom?" Manny asks. "She's really pretty." She tucks a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, and I wish that my hair had so much volume like hers—and my mom's.

"Er...thanks." I say awkwardly.

"Do you have any other pictures of her before she-" Manny cups a hand over her mouth. "Oh, sorry, Vivian."

"Don't be." Quickly I change the subject. "My older brother is driving home from Rhode Island to stay for the weekend." I close the locket.

"Rhode Island, U.S.!?" Queenie says. "How long is that drive?"

"About nine hours." I say. "It's cheaper for him than flying in."

"What does he look like?" Manny's dark eyes penetrate mine like she's scaling through my thoughts to find his image.

I shrug. "Sort of tall. Sort of muscular. Curly hair. Nothing special."

"Do you mind if we stay over?" Manny's eyes light up.

"Only if you're interested in helping Mr. Graham _set up the guest room_." Queenie answers instead, emphasizing the mission for any visitors at our house this evening.

"Whatever." I say. "Flirt with him for all I care, just don't make yourselves look stupid, or I'm going to be the one who gets the questions later." I chuckle.

"Don't worry—we'll make you look good." Manny winks, then something catches her eye—or someone. I turn and see Spinner walking towards his locker. "See you guys later." she follows him.

I tilt my head towards Queenie. "Are Paige and Spinner still dating?"

She shrugs. "Last I checked. What's up with you and Ivory? Suddenly I mention your name to her, and colorful language comes out of her mouth."

My mood changes completely. I forgot about our confrontation just two days ago after thinking about my mom. I cling on to my locket. "She doesn't like that I hang out with Rick, so I ended our friendship."

"Oh." Queenie says.

I fold my arms. "Are you going to join the Anti-Rick Bandwagon too?"

Queenie stares at me for a few seconds, frowning as if she's thinking of something. Finally, she opens her mouth. "Rick was in my theater class last year. Both he and Terri—the girl he dated—before he...well you know."

I nod. "Is there a lot to the story?"

"I guess we can walk and talk." Queenie replies.

We head to gym class as Queenie continues her story. "Rick was so active in the class. The most of any of us. He was confident in answering all of Ms. Kwan's questions. Hell, he even gave his own input from his personal experiences. He was quite sure of himself—even a little arrogant sometimes."

"Really?" that sounds about right: the theatrics part that is. I think about the time when I rode with Rick to his house and how he ranted on and on about theater.

"But when it came to Terri", Queenie continues, "he was different. Every time he was near her he couldn't make eye contact with her. He was _really_ shy around her. It was cute. I have to admit: Rick had good taste. Terri was gorgeous."

I nod. I want to ask her what she looked like, but I don't want to ruin the flow.

"So when the two of them began dating." she says. "If I thought Rick was confident before, man did his ego grow!" she shakes her head. "I didn't take him seriously, but everyone who was around him thought he was weird, and that's all I knew about him."

"Did you ever talk to him face to face?" I ask.

"Sure: a few times when we did group activities, which was a lot in that class. Like I said before, he was really active, so it was sort of fun to work with him, but also so _irritating_ because he thought he was above everyone else in the class! I didn't like him."

"So...what's the point of your story?" I ask.

Queenie smiles. "If you don't see it, then I guess he really has changed."

I look at her, baffled. "Huh?"

"If Rick is still the arrogant, abusive know-it-all from last year, I feel like you would've made a comparison between him now to him last year, but since you didn't..."

"...Then he probably has changed." I finish.

"You're a smart girl, Vivian." Queenie says. "And if you say that Rick's not a bad guy, then I have to take your word for it."

I hug Queenie. "I love you!"

* * *

_I tell her. I tell her not._

I'm leaning against the wall besides the door to Ms. Sauvé's office. I want to tell someone about my dream from last night which also caught me when I dosed off at lunch just a few moments ago. I'm clutching my locket as I think of the bizarre yet disturbing vision. _Why did it come back?_ I slide down onto the floor and bury my face in my lap.

_If you were here, Mommy, I wouldn't have this problem. It's so hard being without you. _The thought alone brings tears to my eyes and I bite my bottom lip to keep from sobbing out loud. I take a deep breath and lift my head up when I see Rick from my right walking over. He seems occupied by his own thoughts as he stares downward, but when he looks ahead and sees me, he quickens his pace a little. Quickly I wipe away the tear that slid down my face.

Rick sits on the floor next to me. "I didn't know you were seeing Ms. Sauvé." he unstraps his black messenger bag. "Do you have an appointment scheduled with her?"

"Me? Oh, no." I force a smile. "I just need to talk about something."

"About what?" Rick says in a soft voice.

I stare at the linoleum. "I don't want to say...I'm not even sure if I want to talk to _her_ about it."

"Take it from me, Vivian: it's easier to talk about difficult subjects." Rick says. When I don't respond or look at him, he asks, "I-is it about your mother?"

Briskly I nod, fighting more tears. I don't want to cry in front of Rick again, but I'm sure he knows I'm upset when he puts an arm around my shoulders. I hold his free hand with both of mine and lean my head against his shoulder. "Stay with me for a minute, Rick." I say.

Rick rubs my shoulder in response. "I will." he says tenderly. "I don't go in for another five minutes."

He's wearing that cinnamon scented cologne again, and I'm submerged under the scent now that I'm leaning against him. I want to think about something, anything else that doesn't involve the dream of my mother drowning in a pool of her own blood. I feel Rick's head leaning against mine as he gently runs over my shoulder; a common, comforting gesture and yet it feels so good...

"Wow. The psycho moves fast."

Abruptly I sit up as Jay, a.k.a Cap Boy, looms over us. He looks at me, gaze nonchalant. "You know, this is how they work: they treat you nicely, tell you sweet things...then they go for the kill."

"Jay, please." I say, agitated. "Leave us alone."

"Maybe you're not aware, but I'm the Hallway Patrol around here." He averts his gaze to Rick, eying him like a piece of meat. "And today I'll also be your personal body guard." Suddenly he grabs Rick by his shirt with both hands and pulls him up as he grunts.

I stand up. "Stop it, Jay!" I say. "Put him down!"

"As you wish, princess." Jay slams Rick against the wall with a loud smack, and I flinch. Rick slides back to the floor, biting his lip as if trying to hide the pain he feels. His gaze is fixed straight ahead.

I grind my teeth. "Go. Away. _Now_." My face is boiling as I walk towards Jay.

He glances at me, and the slightest hint of surprise is now replaced by amusement in his beady little blue eyes. "And who do we have here? The princess is defending her psycho boyfriend."

"I'm gonna count to one." I ignore his remark. "Go away _please_. Today's not the day."

"Rick's girlfriend is also psycho." Jay taunts some more as he crosses his arms. "It was meant to be." he grins smugly.

"One."

I grab Jay's sack so suddenly he recoils, but I don't let go even as he grabs my wrist. "Hands off my junk." He tries to sound tough, but his voice cracks under the pressure of my grip.

"What are you going to do if I don't?" I press harder, and Jay groans. "Push me? Slap me in the face? Then do it: Rick won't be the only guy around who would've hit a girl before."

Jay swings my hand away, face flushed a hot pink. "You'll regret that, you little bitch." He growls. Suddenly, he calms himself and grins. "But you're right. I can't do what I'm accusing Rick of, but no one gets away with making me look bad."

"I tried to be nice." I try and sound detached from Cap Boy's remark.

He moves towards me so that our bodies are only inches apart. He glares at me, and I return it.

"I go away when I want to, not when I'm told." his hand glides to the back of my neck, and the other grabs my cheeks with his index finger and his thumb as he squeezes my cheeks. "Don't forget that." He says. I can see Rick from my peripheral vision climbing to his feet.

I spit in Jay's face, and he turns his face away for a second before he pushes me to the floor and I cry out, startled. He walks away as Rick helps me to my feet. "You okay?" he puts his hands on my shoulders.

I put a hand on my pounding heart. "He's just as bad as he claims _you_ are!" I reply.

"Don't get involved with him, Vivian." Rick tells me. "I knew by the way he looked at you that he was going to push you. I should know: I did the same to Terri." he shakes his head. "Thank you for standing up for me."

I'm still shaking after the confrontation. It's more than just the physical harm: it's the psychological trauma that I'm suffering from. How Rick has to put up with this _every day_ is beyond me. He's seeing counselors because of his issues, but no one around here seems to care. Isn't it bad enough that he has to repeat the tenth grade?

I grab Rick's arms. "It's so courageous of you to come to Degrassi everyday despite everyone harassing you. How do you manage something like this all of the time?"

Rick smiles shyly. Suddenly he changes the subject. "Uh...Toby and I have this game going..."

"Huh?" I squint at him. _Where did that come from?_

"It's out of the blue, I know, but—"

"-Sorry, I can't play now. Gotta go to class."

I don't know what I'm thinking—maybe I'm not—but I stretch up and kiss Rick's cheek. "Thanks for comforting me...again." There: I justified the kiss. No need to feel awkward.

But Rick's grinning wildly before I turn and head down the hall.

I've moved across the clearing and start to climb the stairs when the bell rings. I reach for my locket—and find that it's not there. I scan the area around me as students begin to fill the halls. I start to retrace my steps and go back down the stairs to search the floor—least what I can see of it. Panic gradually fills me, and I walk faster in the direction I came from. In my haste, I bump into Emma.

"Sorry." I say. "I'm looking for a locket I dropped."

"A locket?" Emma repeats. "What does it look like?"

"It's a creamy color with gold flowers embroidered on it." I tell her. "With a gold chain."

She nods. "I'll let you know if I find it."

"Thanks." I walk past Emma and continue my search. My heart beat's accelerating by the second. How could I lose something so valuable so soon? I really want to slap myself.

I'm back at Ms. Sauvé's office, and sit down in the spot where I was only minutes before. I fidget with my shirt; I had my locket on in this spot, so I lost it when I was-

I freeze. Does Rick have my locket? The thought relieves me little.

As if on cue, Ms. Sauvé's door opens and Rick emerges.

"Rick!" I rush towards him. "Back just a few moments ago when we were talking...did you notice me wearing a locket?"

He scrunches his eyebrows. "I wasn't...really paying attention. Did you lose it?"

I put my hands on my forehead. "I just had it! And now I can't find it anywhere!"

I'm struck with a realization and widen my eyes, staring directly at Rick, but he's not the person I see.

"What?" Rick says.

"Jay." I say bitterly. "_He_ stole my locket!"*

* * *

**Housekeeping: I hope the italics in the beginning don't strain your eyes! I did it for the purpose of the dream.  
**


	8. Cap Boy's Deal

_Whew! I've been busy, and have long since had this chapter three quarters ready, but things came up! Anyway, behold the next installment, and thanks for reading!  
_

**VIII. Cap Boy's Deal**

* * *

_"If he wasn't such an asshole, I'd like him and his twisted sense of humor."_

* * *

"Are you sure?" Rick asks.

"Who else can it be!?" I say. "We were sitting here-" I point at the spot beside Ms. Sauvé 's door "-you and I talked for a bit; the whole Jay thing happens; and then my locket's gone!"

"As logical as that sounds, especially knowing how Jay can be," Rick replies, "anyone could have picked up the locket. What does it look like?"

I tell Rick the same description I told Emma a few minutes earlier. I sigh. _This is not my day_. "It belonged to my mother's."

"Your mother's?" Rick's eyes bear into mine's. "So this is very special to you." He concludes in a soft voice.

"Of course," I shake my head, "and I'm so clumsy to I loose it the first time I wear it." My voice shakes, and I feel a lump in my throat. "It's like a lost another piece of her." My mother's locket, of all things, and I loose it! Look at your caring daughter now, mom.

"Hey, don't cry." Rick timidly puts a hand on my shoulder. "I'll help you find it."

This time I manage to restrain my tears. "Thank you, Rick." I say. "You're a great friend. Seriously."

Rick smiles shyly and looks at the floor. "I'll ask Ms. Sauvé if she's seen it."

"Okay." I nod. "Can you call me if you find out anything about it?"

"Sure. I just need your number first."

"I know." I reach into my purse and pull out a blue pen, then take Rick's left hand and write my cell number on his smooth, pale palm. "There." I say. "Just call me and leave me a voice mail saying who you are. I have to go."

"Sure thing, m'lady." Rick grins. "I'll see you later?"

"Yep." I scan the lobby before I walk away from Rick. "Where _is_ it?" I murmur to myself as I walk down the corridor on my way to my next class. I survey the lobby as I go. It's easy to spot that locket since it's fairly large. The fact that I can't find it anywhere confirms my conclusion that someone, if not Jay in particular, took the locket. Eventually I give up the search and walk towards my locker.

There's a piece of paper taped here, with sloppy chicken scratch on it:

_Want your necklace back?_

_Meet me in the front parking lot at 3p.m., and I might give it back to you. -J.  
_

That crazy thug! I KNEW he took it! I'll never figure out how he knew where my locker was, but it doesn't matter: he doesn't scare me a bit.

I text my dad and tell him that I'm staying after school for student council while I look for Jay outside in the parking lot. Soon I spot him in a gray-hooded jacket standing against a pumpkin orange car (_orange_, Cap Boy? Really?). Moderately, but not quickly, I storm over to him, who spots me from twenty feet in the distance. He stands with a sinister grin on his face that grows the closer I approach. He's clutching something in his hand, and it belongs to me.

"Hand it over now." Is the first thing I say when I reach Jay.

"What's the rush, princess?" The grin stays. "Don't I get a hi?"

"Please give me my locket." I say, a little softer than before.

"Fine." Cap Boy says. "I'll give it to you just because you said please, on one condition: you go out on a date with me to make up for your naughty behavior."

Infuriated, I dive for my locket, but Jay holds his hand up high. I kick his manhood and he doubles over, lowering his hand in enough time for me to snatch away my locket.

Jay grabs my arms. "Do you think I'm gonna let you hit me TWICE and get away with it?"

"Are you going to push me again?" I raise my voice, drawing attention from ongoing students. "In front of all these people?"

Jay smirks as he releases me. "No." he snatches my locket out of my hand, and I immediately reach for it, but he dodges every time.

"Jay!" I shout.

"I said I wanted to take you out on a date." Jay says calmly. He opens the door to his passenger seat. "Now get in." He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a lighter and flicks the flame on, holding it near my locket. "Or you can say goodbye to your necklace. Your choice."

There's sweat under my armpits as I watch the flame lap hungrily at my locket just inches above. Then I pout like a six-year-old. "If you ask me, _you're_ the psycho." I plop onto Jay's seat: the stupidest thing I've ever done.

"Good girl." he closes the passenger door, and that somehow releases a wave of panic within me. I don't trust Jay.

He opens the door to the driver's seat and climbs in. "Nice, isn't she?" he smiles at me again.

"I've seen better." I answer. "Let's go, Jason. I need to be home by five."

"Relax, this won't take long." Out of context, Jay's quote is terrifying.

_Maybe Jay isn't as bad as he lets on_, I think to calm myself. _Maybe he's just a joke_. If he wasn't such an asshole, I'd like him and his twisted sense of humor.

The moment Jay's car is traveling down the main road, I speak again. "Cut the crap, Cap Boy. You have a girlfriend. What do you want from me?"

"I told you: to take you out on a date, and show you the scenery, princess."

"Okay, how about calling me by my name: Vivian."

"Fine, _Vivian._" Although I just requested it, it's weird hearing my name on his lips. "Just relax. I'm taking you to my favorite spot."

_Who knows what that is_. After a while of driving along the street, Jay turns off the main road, and soon buildings and pavement are replaced by low hanging trees. Some of them are sprinkled with red and orange leaves due to the autumn weather. I can feel myself rocking back and forth as Jay's car travels over a rocky, narrow road, curving farther and farther away from civilization.

The road merges into an unofficial parking lot, which is really a grid version of the sandy, rocky road we were just traveling on. Jay parks his car here, and it overlooks a large grassy field that goes on for miles. I look out: there's an old picnic bench sitting alone, and there's a gathering of twigs, barks, and branches piled together a few feet away, clearly a bonfire nest. Beyond the table lies a dark, old family van, which looks like it was long deserted.

I look at Jay. "Congratulations: you've succeeded in taking me out into the middle of nowhere."

"Like it?" Jay takes off his seat belt.

I do; that it is if you take away the raggedy van and the beat up picnic table. The grass blades are mossy green in the sunlight, and its fresh smell greets my nostrils.

"Why do you care about this thing so much?" Jay holds the locket by the chain.

"Glad you asked: it belongs to my dead mother!"

Jay's expression softens temporarily, and it's a human expression. "Oh." he says, and for a moment I think he regrets taking me here, but then he says, "Fine, I was just bluffing with you earlier. I won't burn it, but we're still having our date."

He walks towards the abandoned van, and I follow him, having no other choice. He slides the side door open and hops on the platform. Shockingly he holds out his hand, and I take it, climbing into the van. It's a little rocky, so I plant my legs a part for balance.

What I see is bizarre: there's a large, blue and green rug covering the floor, and there are candle sticks arranged on some small, platform-like things. A few plush pillows and blankets litter the rug.

"What's this?" I ask as Cap Boy slides the door closed.

He sits and motions for me to do the same. "Where I only take special women."

I frown, but follow suit, and sit alongside Jay Indian style. I clasp my trembling hands. "Please, Jay. That locket's important to me. Let me have it back."

Jay ignores me. "Relax." He massages my shoulders. "You don't want to be tense during this."

I shrug his hands away. All of my suspicions of Jay are confirmed. "My locket, Jay." I say sternly, holding out my hand. "Give it back."

"How badly do you want it?" Jay puts a hand under my chin.

He wouldn't. He _wouldn't... _

He does. Jay kisses my lips. Instantly I jump back, but Jay pulls me back for another, and this time I let him. I can feel his hands slide my jacket off.

Very slowly, I run my hand over his back, and he grabs my hips, bringing me close until I'm right against his chest. I kiss Jay back, letting the moment rattle me like an electric shock. Jay's hand toys with the bottom of my shirt, and one hand glides up, his kisses becoming stronger, forceful. I feel against Jay's legs and into his pockets until I can feel my locket. As soon as I swipe it away, I backhand Jay with such a force I knock off his backwards cap.

"You're disgusting!" I cry. "Did you think I was so desperate to get my necklace back that I would sleep with you? Do I look like a piece of meat to you? A _prostitute_?" I stand up. "Screw you, Jay! I'd rather walk home than spend another second with you!" I grab my jacket and purse and slide open the door to the van, but Jay grabs my wrist and pulls me back.

"When I start something, I finish it." Jay kisses me again, holding me tightly. Forcefully, I elbow him in the eye and he cries out, holding his eye with both hands. I kick his poor sack for the third time before turning and leaping out of the van, sprinting for the trees. Some of the branches snag my skin and I bite back a cry of agony as I continue going until I'm out on the other side of the trees and on the rocky, gravel road.

I hear the rumbling of a car engine, and I continue to run, my heart accelerating. _Jay's in his car,_ I think. _He's after me. I can't outrun his __car. I _can't_._ The scenery of low hanging trees, breathtaking just moments ago, is now a terrifying reminder of how isolated I am from human civilization. Sweat's drenching my face, sliding down as I continue to run.

The engine's louder. But the sound's ahead of me, and suddenly I'm face to face with a granite-colored mini-van. I scream as the van screeches to a stop.

"Vivian!" The passenger door opens and Queenie pops out, eyes wide. "You okay?"

I can barely speak as I gasp for breath. My lungs feel like cement blocks burning in my chest. "Jay...he's after me. We need to go."

"Get in!" Queenie nudges me towards the backseat door and I open it, sliding in. Queenie quickly climbs in the passenger seat. "Turn around!" She says to the driver after I close the door. I jump as I realize it's Rick.

He makes a sharp turn left, then backs up until he can make another left, heading in the opposite direction at a sharp speed. I close my eyes as the car sways on the uneven gravel. I want away from this scenery. Away from Jay. I focus on catching my breath and take them in long and steady.

"Are you okay, Vivian?" Queenie asks me again.

I can hear the beating of my thudding heart. "Fine." My voice quivers as I exhale.

"No one's following us." Rick says to Queenie, and I catch his gaze as he looks through the rear-view mirror. I look away, embarrassed. "Where to?" he asks Queenie.

"To Vivian's, obviously." She replies. "Her brother's going to be home, and she needs to be there."

"You have a brother, Vivian?" Rick looks at me again through the mirror.

"Yeah. He's in college." I say quickly while breaking my gaze from him.

Queenie faces me. "We'll talk when we get there. You know the way right?" She asks Rick.

"Yeah." He replies.

"Queenie, I'm fine. Really." I say.

"Yeah, we noticed." She says. "You don't have to lie, Vivian. Clearly you don't want to talk about this now, and I understand."

I blow a strand of hair out of my face.

"You know, on the way to get you, Rick and I discovered we had something in common: we can both read you like a book."

"Joy." I roll my eyes.

"Hey, I'm just saying," Queenie looks at me through her mirror. "If you don't want to talk to me, I understand. It's just like I said before." She grins at me. "That is...unless you'd rather talk to Rick."

"Queenie!" I raise my voice, and Rick flinches. "Sorry." I say to him.

"Don't be." He says softly.

I steal glances at him through the rear-view mirror. Is his face rosy again? I think it's cute when he blushes.

Never have I been so grateful to have good friends until now. I'm with Rick and Queenie, and we're going home. Everything's okay now.

I wish I could fool myself that easily.

* * *

It's not entirely surprising that Vince is the one to answer the door.

"Brother: my friends, Queenie and Rick. Queenie and Rick: brother."

"That's right, my name's Brother. Brother Vince." he plays along. "Genius at your service."

"More like know-it-all, but interpret it how you wish." I say as the three of us walk into my house.

"Your hair's just as curly as mine's." Queenie takes my brother's hand followed by Rick's after we enter the house.

"Seems like I was worried for nothing." Vince says. "You've made good friends it seems."

"Well _yeah_. I'm not anti-social." I smirk. "Guys," I address Queenie and Rick, "there are snacks in the fridge if you're hungry. I'm going to go change."

"I'll come with you." Queenie says. "You guys, on the other hand, can have some bonding time. Who knows: you might find that you have things in common with each other." She nods at Rick and my brother.

I feel like a dirty rat. I have to shower _now_, and wash all traces of Jay Hogart off my body. I rush up the stairs with my best friend hard on my heels.

As soon as the door to my bedroom is tightly shut, I talk to Queenie. "I can't go back to Degrassi now!" I say and wrap my arms around her.

Telling her about Jay is like releasing water pressure. I go through everything: how he took me to a local park; how he wanted to invade my pants in exchange for my locket. All are things that I can't tell dad without attracting the attention of nearly everyone in the school and possibly the city.

"He wouldn't take no for an answer." I say from my closet as I strip off my clothes and put on my light blue bathrobe spotted with red roses. "But I got away from him. I don't think he was interested in chasing me," I emerge from my closet, "or else you and Rick would've spotted-"

"Hey, what's that stain I see on your robe?" Queenie says.

"What? Where is it?" I sit on my bed and search for the stain.

"It's right here." Queenie bends down and lifts the robe off of my left leg.

Partly shocked, disgusted, and fascinated, I stare at the apparent long gash on my shin with dark blood oozing out of it like a brook.

"Holy cow: you're BLEEDING!" Something I never would've guessed if she hadn't pointed it out. "You need to put some ointment on this now!"

"Whoa." I say as if I'm looking at an exhibit. "I don't even remember when I got this strangely enough." I walk into the bathroom to wash off the wound. My own private bathroom: something new I've received since the move, but it's still too much for me to take in. No way, however, am I going to share a bathroom with my dad after this!

"Do you want me to get Rick in here so he knows that you're okay?" Queenie calls after me.

"Queenie, shut up." I chuckle.

"What, do you think I'm blind?" She continues. "You two are totally digging each other, and neither of you will own up to it. It's like a waiting game to see who will make the first move."

"So you think you know everything, eh?" I'm morphing into the stereotypical Canadian. "How did you guys find me anyway?"

"Glad you asked." Queenie grins a playful, but evil, grin. "Rick saw you rush off with Jay, or so he said, when I ran over to him asking him where you were. We promised to go to your house immediately after school, remember? So anyway, he was really worried about you." She moves towards me. "REALLY worried about you." She flicks my hair.

"Stop it." I move her hand away.

"I see you smiling." She sings.

"So...you were able to follow Jay out to the park?" I change the subject. "But you guys were so far behind us."

"Rick wanted to follow Jay right away, but I suggested we waited a little. Rick memorized the path Jay took the moment he pulled out of the parking lot."

I sigh. "I don't want to think about what Jay would've done if you guys weren't there for me." I shudder at the thought. It's bad enough that I lost my first kiss to Jay of all people: I can still feel his lips on mine. At least, as disgusting as it was, he knew how to move his lips. Ugh...my stomach...When will be the next time I feel clean?

"You need to tell an adult about this. Anyone, if you can't tell your father." Queenie says.

"Nothing happened out there." I counter. "And I've already told _you_. That's good enough. I don't want to attract more attention to this than needed."

"Fine." Queenie shrugs. "Just a suggestion, but you're right-about what you said earlier, that is. If we weren't there to save you..."

I put my hand on her shoulder. "Thanks, sister." I kiss her forehead. "I'm going to go shower. Now."

"Are you going to kiss Rick like you kissed me?" Queenie taunts again.

I look at Queenie and smile. "Of course not!" _A kiss on the _forehead_ isn't what I have in mind._

* * *

I settle for black slacks and a mint green blouse as I join everyone else, including Queenie, downstairs. There's an explosion of laughter as I walk in on Dad, Vince, Rick, and Queenie playing spades.

"Ha, ha ha!" I didn't know Rick had an evil cackle. "Didn't think we'd win again, did you?"

"I let you have that game." Dad says. Typical.

"This is horrible." Queenie says. "All I suggested was that Vince and Rick talk to each other. I didn't know that would come back to haunt me!"

"Hard to admit that Rick and I are unstoppable, huh?" Vince winks at Queenie.

"Whatever." She sighs. "Let's play again."

"In a moment." Vince hops up from his seat. "I need to talk to Viv first."

"Good, go bond with your actual kin." Queenie makes a shooing motion with her hands.

"And Queenie and I will come up with a strategy." Dad and Queenie step away from the table.

"I'll be back, Rick." Vince and I walk into the kitchen. "I didn't get the chance to talk to you tonight. I was really worried about how you'd adapt here." He glances around the kitchen. "The drive up to Toronto was surreal."

"Everything's fine, Vince. Promise." I say cheerily.

"Not having those weird dreams are you?" Vince frowns at me like a concerned parent. I guess he kind of is with the absence of mom and all.

As soon as I shake my head, Vince comes closer. "Stop lying."

Damn. Isn't there anyone I can fool? I glare at my brother.

"Come on, Viv, I promise I won't tell anyone." He puts a hand on my shoulder. "Don't be like dad on matters like this: you know he won't say anything about how mom died."

"I know." I snap. "I just...don't know why they came back." I toy with a strand of my black hair.

"I thinks it's the change in environment." Vince says.

"If that was the case, I would've had them consistently, non-stop. The dreams _did_ stop, but they came back as of last night."

"That is weird." Vince comments. "Anything significant happen at school?"

I scale my thoughts. "Not really."

"You sure?" He asks.

"Sure I'm sure." I say.

"Huh. Okay." Vince replies. "That Rick guy is something." he mutters.

"I know." I say. "He has an interesting background."

"Interesting, you say?" Vince crosses his arms. "When I asked Rick to tell me about himself, all I got was some lame tangent on theatrics."

I laugh. "Yeah, that sounds just like him. What he didn't tell you is what he's ashamed of."

"Ashamed of what?" Vince presses.

"It's not my business to tell, but all I'll say is that he had problems in a previous relationship, and it, like, branded him a label from the entire school."

"How so?" Vince asks.

"Well, hardly anyone wants to be associated with what he did last year, and he's been an outcast his first few weeks."

"Hmm..." Vince stares down.

"What?"

"Maybe that's why your dreams returned." Vince explains.

"What led you to _that_ conclusion?" I squint at him. Fun fact: Vince is clueless about reading girls about guys, the one thing that I can get away with.

"Didn't dad talk to you about mom's...past?" Vince asks.

"Uh...no? Is there something I should know about it?"

"I'd ask dad first only because he knows more about it than I do." Vince answers. "But first, I'd like to know about Rick's past."

I smile. "I'd ask Rick first only because he knows more about it than I do."

Vince nudges me. "Okay. You got me."

"Just...be a big brother to him like you are to me, and maybe he'll open up to you." I say. "It's just that I want him to tell his own story, and not anyone else to. That's a huge problem for him at Degrassi. He doesn't have a chance to explain his own actions."

"Yeah, talk to dad soon." Vince says. "This is _so_ much like mom's story."

I squint. "That worries me."

"Yeah, well..." Vince looks ahead. "I was shocked too when I found out."

I take his hand. "It's good to see you."

"You too." he says, smiling warmly.

"I know you hate when I say this, but I love you." I say.

"For the record, I don't _hate_ hearing you say that; I'd just prefer a different choice of words. You should've just stuck with 'It's good to see you'."

I roll my eyes. "You're so difficult." Apparently my entire family is too. There's more to mom's story than what I've been told. How is that? _Why_ is that?

I walk out with Vince to the dining area where Rick's shuffling the cards.

I guess he did somehow trigger the return of my dreams.*

* * *

**The origin of Jay bringing girls to the ravine. Hope that storyline isn't cliché for you all!**


	9. This is My Life

**It's been a while, I know, since I've updated! I've been spending this past month typing up this chapter, and it was a tedious process! Behold: it's here, and I thank you for your patience and for enjoying my story! Here you go! This one's a little long, so bear with me.**

**IX. This is My Life**

* * *

_Journal Entry _

_10 October 2004_

_Why can't I be like Spider-Man?_

_Basically, I'm Peter Parker without the super spidey powers like his alter-ego. I'm facing the same problems he is: having this power and learning how to manage it; control it; use it for acts of good. If Tobey Maguire and I could trade roles for a day, we'd understand each other on a level out of reach of everyone I've ever known, even my friend Toby Isaacs. He would understand the difficulty of having to get up day after day and attend sessions with the school's guidance counselor because the entire society deems you as a weirdo with problems._

* * *

"It's good that you've summoned enough courage to talk." Says Chantel Sauvé, Degrassi's famous guidance counselor.

I nod. "Today's the day I'm ready to talk, and not feel like a mental patient going mad."

"You do realize that those are just your own feelings?" Ms. Sauvé continues, "That we can be whoever you wish to confide into: a guardian, a teacher, a counselor, or even a friend to some extent?"

"Of course I do!" I chuckle. "At least now anyway. I've been grappling with the lost of my mother for two years now." I'm surprised at how composed I am while saying this. "And with it comes this redundant nightmare." I give Ms. Sauvé a brief overview of my flashback turned horrific: a vision starting in the fall of 1994 turning into my mother convulsing in her own blood on the floor, drowning in it. I know the dream so well I could write a movie about it.

"I've already spoken with therapists and counselors in my hometown, and they've all basically told me the same thing, which is I'm not over my mother's death, and that I blame myself for what happened. Perfectly normal, I know." I exhale.

"But that's not the reason I'm here. These dreams ended two nights ago, and I haven't seen it since. Not even in a daydream."

"That's one step towards recovery." Ms. Sauvé says. "Based on the infromation you've given, you don't seem to blame yourself anymore, which is a milestone during this long period of grief."

"I would think so too." I say. "If another dream hadn't have taken its place."

"Another dream?" The counselor repeats. "What happened in this one?"

"Fortunately nothing awful", I reply, "but the ending isn't satisfying."

* * *

_Nightime. Mommy and Daddy are asleep, right? Usually they are at this time. Late night cartoons await! They show more of the adult stuff at night, the things that the older kids watch, and that my parents won't allow me to. Please. Being eight is NOT a baby age! I'm not four!_

_I step lightly out of bed and walk quietly down the stairs, one baby step at a time. I'm trying to watch Sailor Moon at midnight, which comes on in five minutes, and it's one of those teenage shows, but while I was at Fern's house last weekend, her older sister and us watched it._

_I've made it down the stairs without making a sound. Victory is (almost) mine! I creep across the floor of the living room and head for the sofa, only to hear footsteps coming from the kitchen. Oh, no. My parents aren't supposed to be awake! They have to get up early tomorrow and run errands. But it's only Vince that comes out of the kitchen, and he jumps when he sees me._

"_Vivian!" he's a sharp whisper in the dark. "What are you doing up?"_

"_What are YOU doing up?" I fire the question back._

"_Stop acting like a baby." He says._

_I wish he can see me smiling in the dark. "Okay, okay." I whisper back. "I won't tell if you tell."_

"_Deal." Vince holds out his hand and I shake it. "Well, I guess I'll tell you why I'm down here to stop this stupid argument. I'm looking for something in the basement."_

"_Looking for what?" I press._

"_Why do you care?" Vince walks over to the wall and dimly lights up the living room space. "You're trying to watch Sailor Moon. Aren't I right?"_

"_How did you know?" I say. And how is it that he's always one step ahead of me._

"_It doesn't matter." Vince replies. "Anyway, you want to come with me?"_

"_But...Sailor Moon is about to start." I protest._

"_Vivian, come on." Vince grabs my arm. "This won't take long. You'll only miss the theme song."_

_I moan. "Oh, okay."_

"_Shh!" Vince says. "Did you forget that mom and dad are sleeping?"_

_Like magic, we're in the basement (there's no scene that shows us actually walking down the stairs: we're just there). In the far corner of the room lies a huge black trunk._

_I slide my finger over the lid. "It's so dusty." I complain._

"_Well yeah." Vince says. "It's been here forever." he lifts up the latches holding the lid down and lifts it up, sending with it a cloud a dust. "See that?" he points into the trunk. _

"_I do." I reply although I don't see anything._

"_Weird isn't it?"_

"_Yeah."_

* * *

Usually this would be a random dream I would forget about as soon as I wake up, but, like the first dream, it came back.

"This is entirely confusing." I say. "At least in the first dream, I knew why I couldn't shake it for months, but with this dream...argh, who knows?"

"Why do you think this one comes back?" Ms. Sauvé asks.

I run a hand through my hair. "My guess is the trunk part. Vince claims to see something, and I do too. But there's nothing inside it!" Talk about mind boggling.

"Is that an actual trunk you think?" Ms. Sauvé says.

"I actually do remember seeing it during periods of my childhood." I say. "But now...I don't know where it is."

"I want you to go looking for the trunk, if you still believe it's in your house. Then we can work from there."

"Will do." I stand up from the sofa in her office. "Thank you, Ms. Sauvé. My head's clear now that I've finally spoken about this."

"Good to hear." she nods at her door. "Have a good day. I have another person waiting for me outside."

"You too!" I say as I reach for the door.

"Oh, Vivian! Do me a favor: take one of those magazines off of the coffee table. The one that's a duplicate of the other."

"Oh...okay, thanks." I take one of the two _ON_ magazines sitting on display that has a photo of some young girl on the front. _ON_...hmm; short for Ontario maybe? I leave Ms. Sauvé's office. To my astonishment, Paige is sitting beside the door.

"Hello." I say.

"Oh, hun, you too? Look, don't tell anyone I was here." Paige cautiously casts her head over her shoulder as she watches the students passing by in the hallway.

"Uh...whatever you say." Even someone like Princess Paige has her own issues too.

"Oh by the way: you look really cute today." Paige winks before she flashes past me into Ms. Sauvé's office.

"Thanks." I say to the empty spot. Maybe I've been a little too judgmental of Paige before, but she's not as stuck up as I thought.

* * *

...

_With my weirdo status, which was unfortunately achieved by me on accident, leads to problems with other people. Moral of this story: learn to control your anger, and Jay won't harass you._

* * *

To kill time, I walk into the library and browse the fiction books. I challenge myself by avoiding all of the Meg Cabot, chick novels and move on to something completely different. Fantasy? Sci-Fi? I run my index finger lightly across the spines of the books on the shelves, getting lost in the jungle of fiction.

"I thought I'd find someone like you in here."

That voice. That nonchalant, monotone, dry voice. I couldn't forget it if I had amnesia.

Moaning, I turn around and face a very pissed off Jay. My heart hammers. He's usually the one with a smug, dark smirk on his face, but not this morning. He traps me against the bookshelf as he places his hands beside each of my arms, preventing me from escaping.

"Do you see my eye?" Jay's left eye is dark and swollen, but his pale blue iris pierces through it like a tiny fluorescent lamp.

"How'd you explain that to your girlfriend?" I say dryly. Am I just as dark as Jay if I feel satisfied for doing that to him? After all, he started it. I elbowed him to get away. Serves him right! I move his hand away. "Excuse me: I need to get to class." I say sharply.

"Like hell you do." Jay puts me back and moves a hand under my chin. "You and I are going to come up with an explanation of how this happened. Didn't I tell you no one gets away with pushing me around?" he runs a thumb over my lips. "Are we clear?" He moves in fast for a kiss, but I turn my head away and he catches the corner of my mouth.

"Please let me go, Jay." I say calmly.

"Kiss me and I will." Jay turns my head back.

I push his arms away and break away from him, but he grabs my arm and pulls me back, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist. I curse myself for looking at books in the back corner of the library where hardly anyone passes by.

"You're really starting to piss me off, princess." He growls into my ear.

I dig my nails into his hands. "How do you think I feel!" I grit my teeth. "You tried to take advantage of me, and you still think you own me!"

"Hey. You could've just said yes, and it would have been a great time for the both of us." Jay squeezes harder the more I struggle, and it's starting to hurt.

"Do you want another mark on your pale skin?" My hands are trembling as I dig deeper into his arms with my nails. "Let me go!" I whisper loudly.

Jay finally loosens his grip for me to break away from him, and I drop my hands right before I can cut into his skin. Big mistake. He grabs my face and kisses my mouth forcefully like at the park. I only struggle briefly before he pulls away. "I'll see you around." he says before walking away.

I glare at him, trembling all over as he winks at me before turning out of the aisle of books. _How did I get caught up with him?_ I run my hand across my lips as if I can wipe the kiss away. I turn around and gradually walk to the very back corner of the library, biting my lip as the lump in my throat becomes bigger. Here I lean my head against the hard, cement wall and sob silently. I dig into my purse and pull out my mom's handkerchief: a pink one that belonged to my mother, but I've had for as long as I can remember.

I don't know how much time elapses when I finally decide that it's time I head to Media Immersion with Mr. Simpson. The moment I walk out of the library is when the final bell rings, and I show up two minutes late for class with my favorite teacher. On top of that, he tells me that he's disappointed with me for coming in late in an important class day. _If you think you're disappointed in me now,_ I think bitterly, _wait 'til you find out that I didn't do my homework._ I was so distraught about finding Jay and my locket this past Friday I left all of my books in my locker. There they stayed the entire weekend. I could always talk to Mr. Simpson, but I wouldn't be able to avoid that special Jay situation that occurred that Friday afternoon.

I sigh and sit next to—hey, it's Rick! I turn towards him only to see not a frown (that's normal) but a sullen, downcast expression. It turns out Rick and I always share bad days.

"What's wrong?" I ask him. "You were so cheery the last time I saw you."

"Yeah, well...school happens." However droopy his face is, Rick's voice is as bitter as herbs. "One: no one still wants to associate themselves with me, and two: it's because of what I did last year."

I stifle a moan. It's still a trend to ostracize the nerd who lost his temper last year. "Did something happen just this morning?"

"It's nothing." He doesn't speak anymore, so I go about my own business.

The uncomfortable silence continues between us as Snake and I assign us as partners for the computer exercise he has for today's lesson plan. I work with Rick silently until I can't take it any longer.

"Rick." I say softly.

He faces me, no words.

I open my mouth, but also find myself at a loss of words. My hands trembling, a put one on top of his. Shockingly it's chilly. "Please, just...smile for me."

He squints, looking bewildered at what I said, but slowly a smile covers his face and he chuckles. "Sorry, Vivian. It's a little difficult to smile when you have to come to school everyday knowing everyone hates you." His smile vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

"I don't hate you." I say softly again.

The smile returns. "I know. You're what motivates me to come to school everyday."

"Just me?" I say. "What about Toby?"

Rick nods. "Him too."

This time I smile. "I'm glad."

As we stare at each other smiling, as I look into his brown eyes framed by his circular glasses, I forget about the morning I had with Jay. After all, I just made Rick feel better, and that makes me feel better in turn.

* * *

_..._

_Friendship: it's something I've barely had coming up as a kid, but now I realize that I need it more than ever, especially while attending Degrassi. The students here can be...cold. Hard, rigid gargoyles. Statues. Capable of hurting other people, but are oblivious to their destruction. Thank goodness for friends, for the few I have. I can stand to carry on day after day, without missing _her_ so much._

* * *

For the next exercise, we switch partners, so Toby is the next person to work with me (and he had to move seats and not me. Ha, ha). As he takes his seat, formerly Rick's, I notice a large grin on his face. It's a relief to know that he's in a good mood. I call his name so he can upload the LibreOffice Program on his computer, but he doesn't notice. "Toby? The program?" I say, and he turns abruptly and apologizes. He continues to grin to himself and sighs; a cue that he wants me to acknowledge him.

"Good weekend, I presume?" I chuckle.

"You could say that." Toby leans back in his chair. "Rick and I were playing a game, and I creamed him." He puts his hands behind his head and faces me. "He owes me a set of roll playing dice that he said he had his eye on for 'oh so long'." He mocks his friend.

"A game?" With a jolt, Rick's quote comes to mind from last Friday when we started the search for my locket. "Rick mentioned you and he were playing a game last week."

"Really?" Toby sits up. "Did you kiss him?"

"Huh?" I actually _did_. "Uh...yeah. On the cheek that is." What's that got to do with—oh, no.

"So that totals his kisses up to two." Toby says.

"What on earth were you doing?" Do I really want to know? The list of Rick's crushes comes to mind again, and my belly tightens.

"We were competing to see who got more girls to kiss him. Loser had to buy the dice." Toby explains. "I won, of course, with eleven girls to kiss me total." Grin larger than life. That's Toby when he's had an ego boost. "You could've been one of the girls."

"Could I?" I say sarcastically. "Sounds like you didn't need my help." Rick was competing for kisses? Did he become oblivious of the students' hatred towards his reputation from just last year? I hate myself for seeming so harsh, but...he hasn't succeeded in landing many friends.

Now for the question I'm itching to get the answer for. "So...who was the other girl who kissed Rick, or did you not see who?"

"Uh..." Toby glances over his shoulder. "Promise not to tell anyone about this."

"I won't." I lean in close. "Who was she?"

Snake hovers over us. "Discussing our work, right?"

"Uh, you bet." Toby answers.

"That's what I expected to hear from you two." Simpson walks away.

Toby watches him carefully before addressing my question. "She was some niner girl. D-Darcy, I think, but here's the thing: I payed her five bucks to do it." He whispers.

"What?" I cover my mouth as I whisper a little loudly. "Why?" Wait: I know the answer to this question.

"Because NO one would kiss Rick." Toby answers. "It was too embarrassing to watch every girl reject him. Some girls would just avoid him altogether."

"Oh." There's nothing else to say to that.

"I felt bad that I had to bribe the niner, but even worse if Rick had ended up with no kisses, and the game was his idea."

I bite my lip. That's smarts.

"B-but at least you kissed him." Toby says. "Of your own free will, too. Good thing you're here, Vivian."

"Yeah..." My fatal attempt at a cheerful response. Suddenly the conversation I had with Rick outside Ms. Sauvé's office seems staged. No wonder he was acting all sweet! He wanted a _kiss_ from me.

_No way..._ I sit upright. _Did he know that I would be easy to get a kiss from? Who does he think I am?_ I'm angry with Rick for the first time. _But...he really does enjoy you as a friend._ I remind myself._ He followed Jay down to that park because he was worried about you. _It doens't work: I'm still mad at him.

* * *

...

_Nothing goes my way anymore! I can't even make up with old friends without them accusing me of being this horrible person! I tried to reconcile with Ivory, sicne we hadn't spoken in a while, but even that didn't go over so well. She's tainted with the things that everyone else says..._

* * *

Rick is going to benefit working on the Whack-Your-Brain team. He's made an acquaintance in Emma and is bonding with Toby more than ever. I actually saw the three of them walking along in the hallway as I heard them discussing subjects that were to be covered on the quiz show. I couldn't believe my eyes: Emma's actually hanging out with _Rick_, something that I would have never expected to occur a few weeks ago.

Wait. There was just three of them earlier today. Aren't there supposed to be four team members? So where is he? Or she? I shake my head as I take notes at my committee for student council. I want to help set up the stage for Whack-Your-Brain and Marco decided to put me and another student (who's yet to show up) in charge. Our group is in the gymnasium sitting in the corner near the door, which is a hard place to concentrate given the fact that people walk in and out constantly. Or maybe it's because I'm easily distracted.

The doors open (speaking of which) and a blonde girl of about average height looks directly ata me and makes her way over. Oh: it's Heather. "Hey, sweetie! Vivian! Can I talk to your for a sec?" She sits down right next to me. I release our group as she dumps her huge black backpack on the floor. "I need you to fill my shoes. My schedule's become a little swapped with other things, and I can't fulfiill my secretary duties. Could you take over for me?"

"Nice to see you, Heather." I smile. "Well...I guess I have time to do it. I'm flattered that you would pick me."

"Oh think nothing of it. You're just the type of eager girl who cares too much, which is beyond what I can say about myself. So, the job's yours."

"What would I do about your thoughtful consideration?" I shake my head.

"Good question. Say, do you know where cause girl and geeks one and two are?"

"Huh?"

"Emma, Toby, and Freaky Ricky." Heather says, staring at me with her bright green eyes. "I'm on the team with them, and Snake says to get together and study for the show at least once a week. I've seen you eat with them in the cafeteria, so I'd thought you'd know where they are."

"Oh." Heather Sinclair is the fourth member? That's a shock. "No, I don't."

"That's a first." Heather says. "Guess Rick isn't as bad as last year, huh? I mean, since you're seeing him and all. Has he tried to hit you?"

"What are you _talking _about?" I say. "I'm not seeing anybody."

"Really?" Heather reaches into her bag and pulls out a banana. "That's not what I heard. Someone told me you were going steady with him."

"And who told you _that_?" I can't wait to meet them.

"Why, none other than your good friend Ivory." Heather answers. "I mean, now I'm good friends with her. She's just like m y sister being all strong-willed." She peels her banana and takes a bite out of it. "But, yeah. Congrats, little Vivian. I've chosen you to fill big shoes, and no worries about Marco and Alex. I've already told them about you, and they agree with me." She scoffs. "Why wouldn't they?"

"Thanks for telling me." Everything. Ivory's dead.

"Oh, did you know I'm also in charge of this committee with you? Gotta go find the geeks. Ha! Who am I kidding? I'm one now too." Heather leaves the gym.

_Is she always that chatty?_ I stare at the double doors where Heather disappeared.

"Vivian!" Alex shouts my name and walks over to me hastily. "I need to talk to you now." Her voice is sharp like I'm her daughter, but I'll let it slide. Before I can protest, she moves towards the center of the gym where a table and two chairs are set up for her and Marco. I hurry after her. _She knows about what happened._ I think. _Why am I following her? She's going to punch me square in the face!_

"Alex," I say, "before you start, I—"

"Listen don't talk." Alex hands me a check board. "Secretary duties. Everyone needs to sign next to their names: make sure you're on top of that, and you also need to write a list of the people who aren't here."

Foot in mouth, Vivian. "Oh. No problem: I got it." I say.

"Good because I need you to do one of my jobs too." Alex continues. "I have to work double-shifts tonight, and I'll barely have enough time to do my stupid homework."

"What job is that?" I ask.

"Come up with a theme for the quiz show." She answers.

"O...kay." _Why is everyone giving _me_ the jobs they don't want?_

"That should keep you busy enough. Sorry about that."

"It's fine." I say and turn to leave.

"Oh, and Vivian." Alex says.

I turn around slowly. _Here it comes..._

"What I hear about Rick and you dating: it better not be true." She folds her arms.

I stare at her. "Do you believe everything you hear?" I say sharply and walk away. Ivory has some nerve, and Alex too! For one, I'm not even dating Rick, and second: what if I was? Who's in charge of who's life here? I need to shift my attention to something else, like the two jobs that just got loaded on me.

* * *

Surprise, surprise: I accidentally run into Ivory with my lunch tray.

"Please watch where you're going." She says bitterly.

"Please watch what you're saying." I mock her tone.

Ivory freezes and turns around. "What?" She moves closer towards me.

"Suddenly you're deaf? I said watch what you're saying." I come closer. "About me." I glare up at my ex-bestie. "Why did you tell Heather Sinclair what you did about me?"

"Oh please, it's bound to happen!" Ivory spits. "Why else would you walk side by side with Rick everyday? Why did I see you KISS him last week?"

"Nothing's happening between us!" I say. "Why do you HATE that I hang out with him? It's not like I'm convincing YOU to hang out with Rick!"

"He's not right in the head!" Ivory raises her voice.

"You don't know his story to prove that." I say calmly but cooly.

"I don't need to!" Ivory snaps.

"Why do you claim to be such an expert on knowing how bad Rick is?" _This is old news, Ivory! Let it go!_

"Because!" Ivory bellows, and everyone passing by us glances over. She glares back and they mind their own business. "Because..." she says softly. "I used to date him."

I widen my eyes. What can I say?

"I know: shocker." Ivory says. "It was two years ago, and I thought it was cool to date someone in grade nine while I was in grade eight. That was a huge deal then." She looks around the cafeteria. "Let's sit at this table. I have a lot to say."

We sit and engage in a heart-to-heart chat; something that we never had even in our friendship. "Rick was charming, sweet, a little shy, _very_ smart. I can't _believe_ I thought he was so hot then."

"The run was great in the beginning: he was quick to hold the door open for me every chance he got, and he was good at cooking too. He made dinner for the two of us once: I was impressed."

"Understatement." I murmur.

"He was so good at making me feel special, like I was a princess or something. He was good at calling me his 'lady'."

I wince. Rick calls me that now. _Don't talk._

"I was wrapped around his finger. But the moment he kissed me—" Ivory's capturing a memory through her wide green eyes. "-I flocked to him. He was so good at it: stroking my hair, the side of my face, and titling his head at just the right angle...oh, I can't believe I remember every detail of it, but I do." Her pale face is turning into a fiery red.

"You're blushing." I point out.

"Gah, I know!" Ivory covers her face with her hands. "I relived that moment non-stop in my head. He just had the power to do that to you, you know? And then his true colors showed: after a week. He said one afternoon to let him know whenever I stayed after school, and one day, I didn't."

"When I left school, Rick was out in front, and as soon as he saw me, he was like, 'Why didn't you tell me you were staying after?' And I was like, 'Rick, I'm sorry. I forgot to.' Then he was like, 'All I asked you to do was call me, and you forgot?' Then he started accusing me of not caring about his feelings."

"Did he..." I say.

"Hit me? No, that was just the first time I saw his evil side. The first time was when he pushed me up against a bookshelf when I told him to back off of my business. I was upset that my dad was in the hospital, and he prodded me with a million questions!"

Ivory leans forward. "I broke up with him, but I _can't_ forget about him, Vivian, and the fact that that I heard about what he did to Terri just last year put me on edge. It makes me nervous being in the same room as him, the same building as him! The fact that he can be so _sweet_, but so deceiving at the same time plays with my mind, and I hate him for it." She grits her teeth, face as pink as a strawberry.

I look at her. "I had no idea..."

"Figures since you're friends with him." She spits the word friends out of her mouth like venom. "I refuse to sit back and watch him hurt someone else. He's probably claimed to have changed, like the time he wanted another chance with me, but then I turn him down and he went after Terri." Ivory clenches her fist. "That could've been me. I could've been the one in a coma if I hadn't had got away from him. You need to do the same."

I look past Ivory into the distance of the cafeteria and see Rick and Toby sitting by themselves. Both of them are chatting about something they're excited about: I can tell that much from their wild grins.

_But Rick isn't..._I think to myself. _He isn't like that now._ Finally I speak. "Thank goodness you got away from him, Ivory." I say, "and sorry if Rick's return is giving you a hard time...but I really think you should...talk to him."

"Haven't you heard anything I was saying?" Ivory's wide green eyes are even wider. "He's manipulating you and Toby like he manipulated me and Terri! He hasn't changed, Vivian, I promise you that."

"Really, Miss 'I know everything?'" I fire back. "Then why would you spread that rumor about Rick and I dating? Are you really that hung up on Rick that you won't let me hear the end of it?" I lost it, but I don't care.

Ivory shrugs. "If it isn't true, then all you have to do is clear your name. Say you don't care for Rick in the way he thinks you care for him."

"That's a bunch of crap." I retort. "You clearly don't know anything about Rick now like you used to, which only makes me believe you need to talk to your ex and get some closure."

"Like hell I will." Ivory stands up. "You need to stay the hell away from him."

"You're so concerned about my well being, Ivory." I say sarcastically. "Guess I was wrong for dumping you as my friend." I stand up too, and notice that Ivory flinches from my remark. I try to ignore it and gently grab her arm. "Come on." I say softly. "We're going to go talk to Rick and leave your nose out of my business now."

She tugs her arm back. "What are you doing!?" Her eyes have widened again, more of fear than anger.

"Ivory, let's go." I say. "Look: he's about to come over now." It's true: Rick has spotted us, and he's walking over casually. I grab her arm again.

"Vivian, no." I can feel her trembling.

"Would you relax? He won't hurt you. I promise he's different than the Rick you knew."

"I-Ivory?" Here he is. I look at him and his look of disbelief.

"Please go away." Ivory retorts.

"One: I know you hate me for what I did to you, and two: I don't blame you. I'd just like to apologize."

I take a large step back towards the table where Ivory and I were sitting, but I still listen to the conversation as I pretend to check myself in my makeup mirror.

"For the millionth time, huh?" Ivory crosses her arms as I steal a quick glance up.

"I...have a problem, Ivory—had...a problem, but I'm in therapy. You have my word on that."

"I've never heard of an abusive guy say he's getting help and means it." Ivory's voice is sharp.

"Neither have I." Rick sounds sincere. "That's why I'm doing this. I'm not asking you to like me, or to be my friend, but I hope that you can...forgive me."

Slowly I glance up as Rick edges closer. "How have you been...Ivory?" He looks so nervous. He's fidgeting with his hands.

Ivory isn't so pink in the face now. "I've been great." She replies, and I relax, putting away my makeup mirror.

"Until you came back!"

Suddenly, Ivory takes her juice carton and tosses the the red liquid right into Rick's face.

I gasp. "Ivory!" I walk over. "What-"

"-Don't you DARE jump to his defense!" Ivory spits. "I can't believe you're falling for his act! Go to hell, Vivian!" She bumps past me and storms out of the cafeteria. I stare after her. That was it. Ivory and I are no longer friends. I don't think we can ever recover after this.

I remember Rick as I hear students laughing. Abruptly I turn around and see Rick wiping off his face and clothes with his hands. I reach for one of my napkins. "Here, let me help-"

"No, don't waste your time." Rick holds up his hand as an indication to stop. "I'll talk to you later." He too walks past me and leaves the cafeteria.

I stare after him. Even I'm not enough to cheer him up. Why do I watch my friend suffer day after day and fail to do anything about it? What a day.

* * *

_..._

_If I were Tobey Maguire, I wouldn't have this problem. I would be like him: able to stop everyone from picking on me or anyone else. Well I guess it's a good thing that I don't have "Spidey Powers." or any superhero powers. Half of the school wouldn't exist. I really do hate it at Degrassi. With or without special powers, I'll stop this bullying from happening. Patience is a virtue._

_ -Rick Murray*_

* * *

**I've decided to try something a little different with the journal entry. Fun fact: there's no mention of Rick having a girlfriend before Terri in the television series; however when the actor auditioned for Rick, he (Rick) refers to having a previous relationship in the monologue. I decided that's when Ivory dated Rick.** **Stay tuned!**


	10. Like a Mirage

_I can't believe I'm ten chapters into my story! A HUGE thank you to all of you patient readers for putting up with some of my grammar and punctuation errors, not to mention the spaced out updates! I've gone in and fixed them! Enjoy!_

**X. Like a Mirage**

* * *

_"...Disappearing much like the mirage Rick compared me to a second ago."_

* * *

As I exit the front doors of Degrassi, I catch Rick quickly walking past me with his head bowed. I sigh. He's had a gloomy day, and I was powerless to stop it. _Still claim to be his friend, Vivian?_ I think to myself. I watch him cross the street and disappear around the corner left by himself. At first I stare after him, defeated that I couldn't cheer him up today, but then I notice Spinner and Jimmy across the street staring at the spot where Rick disappeared. They exchange a look and decide to turn the corner as well.

I frown. _Oh no you don't. _As I inhale, I can smell the sticky scent of rainwater. I glance up and notice an eerily dark blue sky. Well what do you know: our consecutive days of sunshine have finally come to an end. The forecast for this afternoon talks of severe storm weather, so I came to school prepared with my neon green and blue rain jacket with black, flowered rain boots. I pull out my neon green umbrella from my my backpack pocket. Oh, yeah: I'm ready for this weather.

"Hey, Vivian." I turn around and spot Emma. "Want to help me study for the quiz bowl?"

I smile. "Maybe tomorrow? I'm off to stop this act of bullying."

"What?" Emma squints.

"Spinner and Jimmy are pursuing Rick, and I'm going to stop them before anything serious happens. I don't like the looks they gave him after he turned the corner out of sight." I point across the street. "Wanna join?"

Emma shrugs as she follows me across the street. I hear a rumble of thunder in the distance, as if it's whispering menacingly that it's coming for Toronto. I zip up my rain jacket and hold my umbrella ready. This afternoon it can serve as a shield from the rain and a weapon against stupid upperclassmen like the ones we're following.

We turn the same corner that the boys did just a minute before and scan the area around us. There's just the wide road and the fence that blocks off the playing fields from the cars.

"I see them over there." Emma says just as I spot them as well. There's a bush up against the fence and that's where I can see the backs of Spinner and Jimmy as they surround the person, presumably Rick, unseen by Emma or me.

My heart begins to hammer in fury. Rick already had a horrible day as it is: some incident he wouldn't tell me about that happened this morning, and the confrontation with Ivory proved that. There's no way I'm going to let anyone else think they have the power or the right to bully him just because they didn't put a girl in a coma!

"This is getting so old." I groan. "Do they want Rick to find a time machine and undo the damage?"

"Maybe we should invent one together to shut everyone up." Emma smirks.

"Great idea." I say. "By the way, how is it working with him? Is he acting all Mooney around you and Heather?" I chuckle.

Emma arches an eyebrow. "Who Rick? If he has, I haven't noticed. Oh, wait!" She pauses. "Hold that thought: he has eyes for Heather. You should've seen his face while she was talking. It was like Britney Spears was on our team." She faces me. "Why do you ask?"

_Because both you and Britney Spears are ranked highest on his list. He's hot for you!_ "Because I trust your opinion on Rick. You'll be getting to know each other a little better than before, and you did stand up for him behind The Dot all those weeks ago." Was that really a month ago? A drop of Rain lands on my nose; cool and fat. Another hits the top of my head, and I pull up the hood on my rain jacket. "I just know he's not the guy everyone stereotypes him as."

"You could say that." Emma pushes her blonde hair back. Another clap of thunder fills the air around us, a little louder than before. "He's the strongest member on the team. He answers the questions before any of us have time to process them. If anything, he's passionate about winning."

"Another reason why we need to help him." I say. "We need to make sure he feels good enough about himself to represent Degrassi on this team. He wouldn't want to do that if kids are constantly harassing them, and even if they are, we need to show that someone does care about him."

"I never thought of it like that." Emma says. "You make a good point. Come on: we're getting closer to them."

We ditch the sidewalk and cut across the lot to reach the wired fence where Spinner and Jimmy are standing. I can hear them taunting already.

"But dad, I would like it at Degrassi if these stupid guys wouldn't push me around like the little prick I am." Spinner says in an idiotic tone, wearing Rick's glasses.

"Well, son." Jimmy says in a mocking voice. "What do I always tell you? Fight back, and they'll leave you alone." He shoves Rick against the fence, who's frowning directly ahead of him. "Why don't you show this creep what I taught you?"

"Back off!" Emma shouts sharply as we approach.

Every guy turns our way. Emma and I both stand with our arms crossed.

"Really? More of this?" I say. A sharp pain stabs my leg, but I ignore it.

"Yes, more of this." Jimmy mocks me. "What are you gonna do? Defend him?"

"Very good, Kareem Abdul Jabbar." I walk closer. "What are _you_ going to do about it? I mean, you could always push me around, but then again, what would be the purpose of messing with Rick if you did the same thing you're accusing him of doing?" I walk towards Rick and gently grab his arm. "Let's go." I mutter and walk us away from douches one and two. A loud clap of thunder erupts from the sky and rain starts to patter the pavement.

"Wait. He has my bag." He nods subtly at Jimmy.

"Mockery, Spinner?" I watch as Emma takes the glasses from Spinner. "Original, creative and witty."

I walk over to Jimmy who's flipping through the pages of one of Rick's textbooks as it becomes soaked in the rain. "Want this back? It's a long way up for you, Lil' Mama." Jimmy raises his hand high. "But feel free to try."

I moan as Emma comes over. "I'll give it a go." She grabs Jimmy's wrist and snatches the book away.

"Guys, I'm not afraid to pluck grapes." I tap my foot rapidly. "So I'd leave if I were you."

"Spoken like a true psycho girlfriend." Spinner teases.

I can feel the heat rushing to my face. "You really need to expand your vocabulary, Gavin." I say tartly.

Jimmy scoffs. "Whatever. Let's go, man." Jimmy slaps Spinner's arm, and they walk past us, bumping Rick on either side.

I whip out my umbrella, thinking of jabbing one of them with it, but reconsider and open it instead. I hold it above Rick's head. "We'll walk together." _Like the couple everyone believes we are._

Rick's concentration is on his book as he flaps it a few times to get the rain drops off of it. "I think this should get dry without much damage, so I won't get fined."

"Not if Spinner and Jimmy were responsible for getting it wet." Emma joins me at the other side as she speaks to Rick. "Tell Ms. Kwan about it, and she won't punish you for it." She passes his glasses to me, and I pass them to Rick.

"It's fine, Emma." He replies quickly.

"Have you told anyone about those guys?" I say as we begin to walk in the pounding rain.

"I've spoken with Mr. Raditch, and he insists that we try and get along." Rick retorts, putting on his glasses.

"Try and get along?" I raise my voice. "They're harassing you!"

"I told him that." He replies. "He told me that it takes two to tango and dismissed me." He sighs. "There isn't much else I can do. I told the principal about this. Who else would take this more seriously than him?"

"Any of the teachers." Emma answers. "You could inform them on how serious the matter is, so Mr. Raditch can't ignore it."

Rick says nothing as we walk in the pouring rain.

"Or you could just do what Mr. Raditch said." I add gently. "Stand up for yourself, Rick. I don't care what anyone else thinks about you from last year. You've obviously changed, and even if you hadn't, does that really give people a ticket to torment you?"

Rick sighs.

"Whatever you do, Rick, don't you dare think you're alone." I lock my arm in his. "Alright?"

A smile comes to his face as he nods. These are so rare on him, which is a shame: he wears them nicely. "Thank you, Vivian."

"Anytime, Rick."

"Guys, are we splitting up?" Emma speaks above the pounding rain. "We really shouldn't be walking slow in this weather."

I flinch as a flash of lightning pierces the sky. Rick notices and takes the umbrella with one hand and my hand in his other. "It's alright." He murmurs, smiling at me through his curtain of plastered hair, a gift from the rain.

I smile back nervously. _I'll have a word with Raditch myself._ I think. It's astounding to wrap my mind around the fact that the principal, of all people, would deny Rick's situation to be serious. _He's a good kid_. _I haven't seen him retaliate _once_ against the other guys! Why is it that he can't get any help? _Maybe Rick didn't appear serious enough, or disturbed enough for Raditch to notice. I would hope he cared if Rick had appeared emotionally distraught. Maybe Raditch has his hands full (when doesn't he?), or maybe he's gotten so many complaint similar to Rick's that were all exaggerated or false. I just can't accept that he went to the principal and received _no_ help!

"Well, it looks like I'm heading back alone." Emma snaps me from my thoughts.

"Oh! Yeah, Emma, we can get together after school tomorrow if you want me to help you study."

"Sure." Emma says as a flash of lightning illuminates her face. "We can meet up at the library if you want."

"Yeah, that works." Thunder erupts yet again, and the rain comes down harder. "I don't want to hold you back in this weather! I'll see you tomorrow!"

"See ya." Emma walks briskly down the street.

I turn to Rick, who's watching Emma disappear down the street. "Do you want to come to my place until the storm blows over? I'd feel bad if you're walking home alone in this thunderstorm. You'd get soaked! My dad can take you home afterward."

"Vivian, you don't have to worry about me—"

"Rick, you're going to catch a cold if you walk straight home. There's nothing to keep your bag dry." I insist. "Don't argue! I'm happy to help you! Aren't I your friend?" Geez, what's wrong with me? I'm acting like he rejected my million dollar donation.

Rick smiles. "You're way too sweet, Vivian. I don't understand why you would waste your time with me when you have the potential of making so many friends at Degrassi."

"Why would you say a thing like that?" I flinch as lightning lights up the sky once more and thunder explodes right behind it. "Come on, Rick. Let's hurry back to the Degrassi Parking lot."

With Rick holding my umbrella, we walk side by side the short distance back to the school. I hold on to his arm as he starts to move faster. Rain splashes my legs several times as we slosh through new puddles, and I wince as another sharp pains stabs my left leg. Soon the front of the school is looming over us.

"Seriously, Rick: you're no bother at all." I say. "If anything, I owe you a favor from this past Friday. The whole thing with Jay was—"

"What happened that afternoon? I never got around to asking you." Thunder rumbles in the sky as Rick cuts in.

"Um, can I tell you when we get home? I just need all of my energy talking about it." I reply. "Just the thought of _Jay_ and what happened makes me queasy."

"Sure." Rick says. "You did get your locket back, right?"

"Yeah." I reply. "I'll tell you about it when—"

"Wait." Rick stops walking all of a sudden. His widened gazed is fixed straight ahead.

I follow it. Spinner, Jay, and a few other people are in the parking lot conversing with each other a few feet away. I recognize a petite silhouette as Alex's.

_Oh, no..._Neither the blinding lightning or the thunder bothers me as I stare at the notorious gang of hooligans.

"Uh, Vivian, I'm taking a detour back to my house. You don't have to come with me, especially if there's a strong possibility that your dad is already here." Rick doesn't break his stare.

"No. I'm coming with you." I say quickly. "You're going to catch a cold without a proper jacket." _And I don't want to face Jay and the gang either._

"Vivian..." Rick starts.

"Why do you try to reason with me?" I nudge him. "It won't work, you know. Now you lead the way."

Rick finally looks at me and sighs. "Sure." He turns around, and I follow him. I hook my arm in his yet again as we cross the empty street and set on for the trees. We cut through them, our feet sinking in thick mud at every step. Thank goodness for my rain boots, but I can't say the same for Rick. I remind myself that I didn't see dad's car in the parking lot. The weather probably stalled everyone.

We're mushed together as we walk through the narrow openings of the trees, and sometimes one at a time when the umbrella gets in the way.

"Sorry, Vivian, but I have to do this." Before I can stop him, Rick closes the umbrella, allowing the rain to attack my face and head.

"Ugh!" I cry. "I understand, Rick!"

"I don't want to break your umbrella." Rick adds.

"I know!" I shout above the rain.

The trees and grass all look the same to me, but I trust Rick as I follow him through the small gaps of trees despite getting snapped by branches and sprayed with rainwater. I manage to keep hold of Rick's right arm as he turns left and right multiple times. He doesn't hesitate for a second, which leads me to believe that he's taken this route many times before.

_He can't even walk home without worrying about being attacked by bullies._ I think a little sourly. _He needs courage. Badly._

Finally, Rick stops in front of a ditch: a deep one filled with rain water and rising by the second.

"Now what?" I shout.

"We jump!" Rick raises his voice too. A flash of lightning lights up the tree trunks, and a crash of thunder immediately follows.

"That gap is nearly ten feet!" I cry. "There's no way I can get across that!"

"One: it's actually five feet, and two: I'll help you across." Rick sweeps back his soaked hair, slicked down like hair gel.

I cross my arms. "How?"

Rick adjusts his messenger bag. "By carrying you on my back of course." He hands me my umbrella.

I shake my head. "I don't know about this..."

"Vivian, I've jumped over this several times." Rick says.

"Did you have a person on your back all of those times? Extra weight?" My voice shakes. _Then again, I am quite small._

"Vivian, I don't like to predict girls' weight for...obvious reasons, but you look like you're barely ninety pounds." He speaks for me.

I sigh. What do I have to lose? We're already soaked, and besides: he's right. "Alright. You have a point." Reluctantly I move towards Rick who turns his back towards me.

"Climb aboard." He bends his knees and watches as I slowly approach him. Then I put my hands on his shoulders and hop onto his back. I lock my arms around his neck while he hoists me up with his hands around my legs.

"Am I squeezing you too tight?" I ask him.

"Not at all." Rick grunts a little, but he tells me, "You're a lot lighter than I thought." He lifts me up a little higher.

"Are you sure you don't need your arms for lengthening or balancing?" _Are you doubting him now? Didn't you say that it was him who needed courage?_

"It's okay, Vivian. Trust me: we'll make it." Rick turns around and takes a few steps away from the creek. "I'm going to get a running start, alright? Hang on tight, milady."

_No need to remind me._

"Tell me when." Rick says.

"Now!" I've had enough stalling.

Rick dashes to the edge with a tight grip on my legs and leaps into the air. I cry out for him as his feet barely touch the edge of the other side, and he uses his hands to land safely after all. I hold on tight with my eyes shut.

"Whew! That went well." Rick says as he steps away from the ledge and puts me down.

_Did it?_ "Where to now? Through these trees here?"

"Affirmative." Rick offers his arm, and I take it hastily as we slosh through the mud once again, heading for the trees in close quarters. After being snagged by more branches, we're finally out in the open again (well, maybe that isn't a good thing with the lightning strikes and all).

"Use this." I open the umbrella once again and hold it above us. "You're soaked, Rick. You should take off your jacket. It's not designed to to keep off the rain." I feel like a million bucks with my rain jacket where the rain slides off of it versus Rick's water absorbent attire.

"You're right." He takes off his jacket and scrunches it into a ball.

"Let me hold your jacket, Rick, and you can hold my umbrella." I say and quickly snap my head up as a jagged line of lightning lights up the sky, now so dark it seems like night time at 3 pm.

We quickly exchange items before we continue to walk out into the open grass, which is about two feet tall. The next wave of thunder sounds like an explosion, and I grab Rick's arm with both hands. "This weather's getting more and more dangerous by the second." I say.

Rick moves his arm around my shoulders. "We're almost to my house." He says lightly.

Again, we're acting like the couple that we aren't but that everyone believes we are. "Do you know where we are? It's getting a little dark!"

"Of course I do!" He says. "I told you that I've taken this detour several times."

"I know, Rick." I say. "It's not you; it's me. I'm a little nervous when it comes to storms."

"I could tell you that when we were back at the school." Rick says as we walk through the grass. "That's why I asked you not to come with me."

"I wanted to come with you!" I say. "Even if it meant being out in this weather. I didn't want you to be alone." I wobble as we cover uneven ground.

Rick holds me steady with his free arm. "Sometimes I think you're a mirage, Vivian."

"A _mirage_?" I chuckle. "Why mirage?"

"Sometimes I feel you're too good to be true." Rick explains. "You're the kindest person at Degrassi, at least to me, and the fact that you're one of a few girls who acknowledges my existence means a lot to me. I just feel as if I'm going to come to Degrassi one morning and discover that you're not there."

I lose my footing and fall on my butt in a pile a mud, disappearing much like the mirage Rick compared me to a second ago. "I'm not going anywhere, Rick, and even though I'm not a fan of this", I indicate my situation with my hands, "I'll deal with it. I like hanging out with you." I smile up at Rick, and he offers me his hand.

"Exactly." Rick pulls me up. "No one's thought of walking out in severe weather just to be with me. Not even...Terri." He struggles with her name, and suddenly the rains feels a lot cooler against my jacket.

"You've never really told me about her, Rick." I'm shocked that I say it out loud.

Rick looks at me closely. "Well...could I tell you about her at another time? I just—"

"Need the energy." I nod. "I understand. Like my situation with Jay."

Rick's face is completely white, and I regret ever carrying out the subject, so I go back to our first one. "Look Rick, you've done me so many favors ever since I met you. This walk with you is just—"

"You returning the favor." Rick finishes. "You've told me so before." What's with us finishing each other's sentences?

"But I still would walk home with you _any_ day. I mean that." I look at Rick. "You've got to be the sweetest guy I've ever met."

As lightning lights up the scenery around us, I hold on to Rick so quickly I don't realize it until he slowly wraps his free arm me. I smile up at him. "I can't believe you're not tired of me yet jumping at every flash of lighting."

"I could never get tired of you." Rick smiles back. "When you speak, I listen. You're my guide."

It's one of Rick's odd-but-sweet moments, and I curse myself for feeling so awkward around him and his...quirkiness. "Glad I can help you." I say at last. And the crash of thunder comes, causing me to hold on to Rick tighter, who doesn't seem to mind as he holds me closer as well. "We should hurry. The weather keeps getting worse."

Slowly the wind picks up, blowing the rain water in our faces. Rick leans the umbrella forward to shield us. We move to the edge of a slope, and Rick points down. "See those houses? Mine's is the third on the right: it's the backyard. We just have to go down this hill. Watch your step."

It's a battle to keep my balance as the wind blows against us. Steadily we move down the hill and kill time with more conversation.

"Do you get along well with the members on you quiz team?" I ask.

"Oh, they're all easy to get along with." Rick answers.

"Even Heather Sinclair?"

"Yeah. She's really clever and witty." That grin is going to crack his face. "Oh and Emma's great too. I remember how much she hated me my first day back, and the moment she kicked me out of The Dot, but she's really come around. She's finally taking me seriously, and not like the freak everyone makes me out to be." He sighs, but it sounds like a sigh of...pleasure.

Emma kicked Rick out of The Dot back then? Then she HAS come a long way with her perspective on this boy.

Rick walks on something slippery, and loses his footing, but I grab his arm before he falls down. "Careful!" I say as the board flies away in the wind. "What was that?"

Rick shrugs. "Let's keep going. We're almost at the bottom of the hill."

He's right; we clear the rest of the way down and reach level ground as the wind blows harder. _What an adventure,_ I think bitterly. _Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if is wasn't stormy, but seriously, Rick?_ I start to regret this little detour. I haven't even called dad, who's probably worried sick about me by now by not knowing where I am. _Hey: you volunteered to go with Rick. _I only have myself to blame. _But you were thinking selflessly._ I remind myself.

Suddenly a soft howl fills the air, and it gradually becomes louder until it's blaring all around us. Rick and I both pause and stare at each other. Tornado sirens. We're in trouble if we don't reach Rick's house in time.

He grabs my arm tightly. "Let's go!" He says above the piercing sirens. The wind starts to pick up more as we dash across the clearing. The rain lightens a little, so Rick closes the umbrella so that we move a little faster.

I notice a cluster of dark leaves right in front of us, and it catches my interest. _What in the world...?_

I didn't notice Rick slipping beside me that caused him to let go of my arm; I don't notice anything until it's too late.

Like the sound of Rick's voice when he cries. "Vivian! Don't go near—"

It's the last I hear of him as I step on the leaves that give way, disappearing into a black hole.

And I disappear with them.

As I drop out of sight, screaming, I can't help but think of my mother and how I'm paying her an early visit. Then the blackness comes.


	11. The Scare (Part I)

**XI. The Scare (Part I)**

* * *

**Rick Murray**

* * *

_She's dead._

_Vivian is dead._

This is how my mind works under a crisis. I imagine the worst case scenario first, then come to my senses next. As I crouch down on my hands and knees in front of the well that Vivian fell into, terrified, my thoughts spiral out of control.

_Don't panic. It wasn't your fault that a girl's been hurt; it's the weather you have to blame; mother nature; God; you didn't do anything this time; for once you're innocent. _

It's some twisted way of calming myself down, but with the tornado sirens blaring like a thousand ambulance trucks in the distance, it's of no use. My friend, my best friend, is down at the bottom of the well possibly dead.

Why the hell did I bother to take that stupid short cut in the first place? It is my fault, dammit!

_At least if there actually is a tornado, Vivian is safe down below._

Another of my twisted thoughts again. If only I hadn't have been so selfish, so cowardly to take this route back to my house; if only I had known that what I slipped on earlier was the sign warning Vivian about the well! We'd be safe by now, and not out in the wind and rain.

Oh, no. The rain. Water could fill the well up in minutes and drown Vivian! I've peered over the edge of the well, and it's too dark to see the bottom. I've been sitting here for what seems like an eternity, but couldn't be any more than a minute. I heard her screaming, but then she stopped abruptly, like she hit her head at the bottom.

She hit her head. Like Terri did. Like Terri did when I pushed her down.

_I didn't push Vivian. _

I have to get her help. I didn't push Vivian down, so what do I have to be guilty for? I didn't do anything wrong this time.

_Yes you did. You let her get away from you._

I dig my hands into the wet grass. I would've gotten us both home safely if I hadn't have slipped in this spot! Now I have to face my mother, again, about another girl getting hurt _again_. First it was Terri, and now it's Vivian.

_Why did this have to happen to you?_

I hate to leave her here alone. It hurts to leave that sweet, little creature alone out in this dangerous weather, but I'm no use to her out here in the dirt like a wet rat. I have to get her help.

But first I need to call her name.

"VIVIAN!"

I shout her name above the screeching sirens several times. No reply.

The air is still. It's the calm before the storm. Ironically the sky isn't as dark as it was before, but I know better.

I have to seek shelter. Now.

Hastily I dig into my messenger bag and rip out a sheet of paper from my notebook and pull out a pencil from my pocket. This is it. In case she comes to, she knows where I am.

I scribble this note:

_Vivian,_

_I've gone to get help, and I'm taking full responsibility for what happened to you. I should've never taken this stupid detour, or we would've been safe at your house like you wanted. Thanks for being a good friend to me._

_ Hang in there,_

_ Rick._

Here it goes: I fold the paper in half and gently drop it into the well.

As I take off for my mother's house, three thoughts keep me sane:

Vivian is alive.

I'm running to get help, not running away.

I didn't push her.*

* * *

**I promise this will be the shortest chapter ever! I wanted to switch up the P.O.V. for this situation.**


	12. The Scare (Part 2)

_Seriously: to those of you reading, you are the most patient, most AWESOME people in the world! I promise I haven't forgotten about this story and have more chapters to edit and publish in the near future! Thanks a bunch for reading and leaving reviews, especially lenakatinas and RHatch89! Here's another chapter from a different point-of-view.  
_

**XII. The Scare (Part 2)**

* * *

**Queenie Parker**

* * *

Ah! It feels so good to have chicken noodle soup flowing through my system! It's a weird, sort of early dinner, but I don't care. It's delicious; in a cup; and convenient while riding in my sister's car home from school. I down it so quickly I start to choke as the broth goes down the wrong tube.

"If you start to lose air, I won't do the Heimlich maneuver on you!" Says Diane, my considerate sister. "Drink at your own risk!"

"And if I die, you'll get charged with neclogens. I'm a minor!" I belch.

"Why did I have to pick you up?" My sister rolls her eyes. "You're so nasty!"

"You'll live." I mutter.

"Come again?" Diane pulls up at the stoplight, turning on the windshield wipers at a swift speed. "I'll throw you out in the middle of this storm and tell mom you walked back to the school."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!" I drink more of my soup.

Overview: my sister is an older, taller, curvier, bustier version of me, leaving me with the shallow genes, but everything else is similar: the caramel skin; the black, curly hair; the brown eyes, but hers are darker than mine's. We're stuck with each other as we drive back to our house. Usually mom comes to pick me up, or I ride with Vivian and her dad to her house, but mom had to work a little late, and I have no idea where Vivian is, so here I am. It's a wonder that we haven't started hitting each other yet! Diane's a senior at Degrassi, but we hardly see each other in school, let alone hang out. I'm counting down the months until she's off to university! Coincidentally, I end up riding home with her in this thunderstorm; the type of weather that she hates to drive in. _Chicken,_ I think. _I could do better than her, and I only have a permit!_

"The radio." I say. "Turn it up." Lightning flashes in the sky, followed by a loud thunder clap, and I scream.

"Oh my goodness." My sister moans. "Girl, it's just thunder. This is the longest ten minutes ever!"

"Remember that the next time you drive out in this storm." I smirk at her.

"Be quiet for once!" My sister turns up the radio. "This actually sounds important."

She's right. This is what I hear:

_The National Weather Service has issued a Thunderstorm warning for the following cities._

The names of all of the cities are a blur to me except for Degrassi Street, the name of the street we're currently on. _No kidding,_ I think as I watch the rain patter the windows of my sister's car. Outkast is playing on the radio after the service announcement, and I blast the car with the lyrics of "Roses". We both sing at the top of our lungs, out of tune most of the time. It's the safest place for tone death people like us to sing. Sometimes I wish I could sing like Beyoncé or even Vivian, who's so bashful about her talent that I don't even bug her about it! I caught her in the girls' restroom one afternoon singing when she thought she was alone. Speaking of Vivian, I've barely seen her today. I knew she was having it pretty rough, so I gave her some space.

My cell phone rings, and here begins another dance break as I rock out to Aaliyah's "More Than a Woman" on my phone.

"Answer the damn phone, nut!" Diane shouts.

"Shut up." I flip up the phone. "Hello?"

"Queenie? This is Vivian's father." The man sounds worried.

"Oh, hi, Mr. Graham. Is there anything you need from me?"

"Please, dear. I need to know where Vivian is. I've been waiting for her at the school, but she never showed up. I've called her cell phone several times, but she hasn't answered!" Mr. Graham's voice raises volume and shakes a little. He's panicked.

This is making me uncomfortable. "That's totally unlike Vivian to not call you and tell you where she is." _Way to calm her father down, genius!_ "I'm really sorry, Mr. Graham, but I haven't seen much of Vivian today. Did you try calling...uh...how about Rick? She hangs out with him a lot."

"Rick? Okay." He sounds a little less frantic. "Do you have his number?"

"Yep." Rick and I decided to exchange numbers on our little quest to find Vivian this past Friday when she went off with Jay. "I really hope you find her." I say after I tell him the number. "Sorry I couldn't be of more help."

"You've helped plenty, Queenie. Thank you. I haven't thought of calling Rick. Bye."

"Bye."

Suddenly, Tornado sirens sound above the our loud music in the car. "That's not good." Diane states the obvious. "I can't drive home like this! I'm going back to Degrassi for now."

I stifle a moan. Tornadoes aren't very likely in Toronto, but then again predicting mother nature is a difficult job. _I guess we are safer back at the school.  
_The radio forecast updates its warning.

As we go back in the opposite direction, the rain forcing Diane to drive cautiously on the slick roads, my cell rings again, and it's Rick. "Hey, Rick!" I say. "Vivian's dad called me a few minutes ago asking me where she is. Do you know?"

"Um...h-hi, Queenie." I don't like the sound of Rick's voice: it's more shaky than Mr. Graham's. "Y-yes I do know where she is."

"Really? Great!" I sound bright, but I can't feel relieved; not with the way Rick is speaking. "Is she there with you? Can you put her on the phone?" _I'm sure Vivian's safe and sound with Rick. That's why he's calling right? Maybe her phone died and she wanted Rick to call for her._ I'm forcing myself to think this and not the opposite: that Vivian is one to call even when her phone is broken; that Vivian's _not_ okay; that Vivian's out in this possibly tornadic weather. No: let's not think that about little, doll-sized Vivian.

There's a sigh at the other end of the line, and my heart pounds. "Uh...n-no. Unfortunately I can't."

"Why not? Where is she?" I raise my voice now. The panic has spread to me. There's a beep in the phone line: it's probably Vivian's dad calling Rick.

"Uh...she-she fell into a well out behind my house."

"WHAT?" I lean forward in my seat. "Isn't she alright? Why hasn't she called?" The line beeps again.

"That's why I'm calling you." My heart races as Rick continues. "That well, Queenie, was quite a long drop, and she...isn't responding."

It feels like someone is grabbing my heart with ice cold hands. "That's not good." I say. "Oh, no. Well let's see...you've tried calling her cell right?"

"I've called her fourteen times! She didn't answer once!"

"Oh." I press my forehead against the dashboard. "Please tell me you called for help. This is serious!"

"Of course I did!" Rick shouts almost. I've never heard him shout before. The line clicks a third time. "I had to go to my mother's house to get my phone."

Suddenly the car stops. I glance up to see the familiar student parking lot adjacent to the school building. As Diane removes the keys from the ignition, she passes me a frown of bewilderment. I wave her off with my hand as I step out of the car with the hood on my red jacket pulled over my head.

"Rick," I speak, absent mindedly following my sister into the school building. "Vivian's father is calling for you. I'm gonna let you go so you can talk to him and tell him about his daughter. Alright?"

There's another sigh. "Alright."

Speaking of which, I bump right into Mr. Graham who has his cell phone up to his ear. "I can't reach Rick!" He glares at me. "Where the hell is that boy?"

"Sir, I'm talking to him now!" I don't like seeing him on edge. "Rick," I say into my phone, "I'm handing you over to Vivian's dad. You don't need to call anymore."

As I hand over my cell phone, Principal Raditch and Snake, Degrassi's coolest teacher, approach us. "Everyone, we need you all in an enclosed space with no windows." Says Raditch in a stern voice. "The weather's getting serious, and we don't know whether a touch down will actually occur or not."

"Hello, we're also in the middle of an emergency!" I snap, only to cover my mouth after I realize that I'm speaking to the principal. "Sorry." I ignore Diane's annoyed look. "My friend, _his_ daughter," I point at Mr. Graham, "is in trouble, and she's out in this weather."

"Is she a student here?" Raditch looks at Mr. Graham a few feet away who sounds every bit of pissed off.

"Yes." I answer. "Her name's Vivian Graham. Her father over there is trying to figure out where she is, and he's using my cell phone."

Now Snake is looking over at Mr. Graham too, who's nearly shouting in the receiver. "Thank you, son." He says a little more calmly. "I'm heading out that way." I watch as he flips my phone shut and walks over to hand it back. "I'm going back out to get my daughter." He says sharply to the two faculty men. "Don't stop me."

"Mr. Graham, the weather's getting worse." Raditch objects. "It's best to take shelter—"

"Dan." Snake says to him. "He's not a student here, remember? We're not responsible for holding him back." He nods curtly at Vivian's dad. "Go."

"Thanks for understanding." Vivian's dad dashes out of the door, bringing in the sharp siren cries.

"Queenie," Snake says to me, "this way."

As I follow the two adults and Diane towards a narrow corridor, I place a hand over my pounding heart. _Please let Vivian be okay._ I pray over and over as I let myself be escorted to shelter.*

* * *

**Don't worry: things will get back to Vivian AND Rick in the next installment! :)**


	13. Stuck

**XIII. Stuck**

* * *

_**"Consistently he's been my knight in shining armor..."**_

* * *

_I have to be dead. I know I'm dead. Why else am I seeing my mother in the living room of our house?_

_I opened the front door and see her sitting in the family room with a cigarette in her mouth. It's raining outside, but my yellow raincoat served its purpose of keeping me dry, even though I hate it. Hate it with a passion. I can dodge the rain, but not the taunts from my classmates. But dad was persistent. Mom didn't seem to care if I went out in a swimsuit, but dad threatened to take away my allowance money, so I wore it._

_Dammit. I know this scene: it's happened before. I'm not dead!_

_I'm ten years old as I walk in on mom watching the news, smoking a cigarette for the the first time ever. She doesn't look up as I stand beside her and look at our large T.V. There's media footage covering some school in Littleton, Colorado. I'm transfixed on the screen, watching the school from a bird's eye view, which is surrounded by several police cars and paramedic vans. The captions under the screen send chills crawling down my spine. I can't recall what it said exactly, but...there was a shooting? More than one person involved? Are they students there? All of these are ambiguous to the networks who are covering footage of the school named Columbine. There are students walking out of the school in a line, all with their hands behind their heads as the S.W.A.T. Team escorts them out. There's more footage of kids and parents embracing each other, weeping._

"_Mom..." I say softly. "You're home early." I continue to face the television._

_She doesn't look up either. Vince, fourteen, comes into the living room with a bag of Lays', which would cost him a hell of a scolding from mom, but even this doesn't break her gaze. "Mom, you're still watching that?" He sounds irritated, his voice indicating that he's in the beginning of puberty._

_Still no words come out of her. Suddenly, hand trembling, she flicks out her cigarette on the nearby astray on the table beside her; grabs both Vince and me; and holds us close on either side._

_I never forget the words she utters before she falls silent again:_

"_I'm glad our family isn't broken."_

_Later I realize that she was referring to the parents of the children who were killed in the tragedy. The "broken families" she called them. The irony in that statement is overwhelming. I look over at Vince, and he stares back at me with a head shake. Don't ask, is what he's communicating._

_So I don't. I lean my head against mom's, and Vince leans his head against mine._

* * *

The instant I open my eyes, I find myself in darkness. In the next moment, an excruciating pain aches throughout my entire body. _Nope, I'm very much alive._ It feels like I've been hit by a car. If I know anything about death, it's not supposed to hurt. I close my eyes and listen to the sounds around me.

I'm lying down on my back with rain pattering me from above. From way up above. I stare at the faint light from the sky down from this hole of blackness that I've fallen into. What a drop! That has to be at least ten feet.

I gasp as I feel something moving across my legs from down below, like...paws. Very, very slowly, I sit up, grunting like I'm ninety two years old.

Rats. Literally: there are two huge rats crawling over my rain boots. Their silhouettes are enough to make them appear menacing.

"I didn't mean to crash into your home." I say. "It was well hidden." Yeah, I'm out of it: crazy Vivian here is talking to a couple of rats. I put my hand to the back of my head and whimper. _Man, that hurts!_ I've found the source of my pain. It's no wonder I had that flashback; I knocked myself out falling down here.

_Where am I? Inside a well? A sewer?_ The only two things I can gather waking up with water and rats. The rain comes down harder and I begin to think. _Okay, I remember falling straight down, and the last thing I saw was Rick rushing towards me—_

I freeze. Rick! What happened to him? Has he gone to get help or something? Tornado sirens come alive, and I shudder. _I should be alright down in this hole, right? Can I call someone from down here? _I try and keep my thoughts focused on anything but the sirens. It's all I can do as I get pelted with fat rain drops falling so rapidly that it's beginning to hurt me. There's a shallow pool starting to form around the base of this...well that I'm sitting in. I stare up above at the opening that gives me a view of the dark blue sky. That has to be some ten feet high at least! It must mean that I'm inside a well. Every drop of rain sounds like a pebble as it hits the sleek walls which are too steep and slippery for me to just climb my way out. I need to rely on someone else to rescue me, or I'm rat bait. Pun intended.

"Eeek!" The rats are getting restless as they move on my lap. Just by the dampest of light from above can I tell that one of the two rats has something in its mouth that looks like a notebook paper. It's probably getting soggy by the second, but it looks fresh. With a jolt, Rick comes to mind, and my heart skips a beat.

"Would you pick a place and sit still?" I grab the rat with the paper by the tail as he starts to crawl up to my chest. "And preferably not there? Ouch!" One of his claws rakes across one of my boobs, fortunately covered by my raincoat. I snatch the paper from his mouth and set him down on the floor beside me. "Dumb rat." I mutter, then chuckle at myself. Yep: I'm touching a rat that I have no clue where it has been.

Clumps of grass and dirt spray me from up above, and I shriek, covering my face with my arms. Another clump of dirt showers me directly on my head down to my face, causing me to cough. _Hey! I'm not dead! No need to bury me!_

I look up cautiously, anticipating more, but nothing happens. From what I can see, no one's up there. I guess the wind is responsible for that. I spit out dirt when I notice that the sirens have died out. Sirens. Rick. Rick. "RICK!" I shout his name and wait for a reply. Nothing. I try again, standing up in the water that's now at my ankles.

"RIIIIIIIICK!"

He's gone to get help right? Of course he has! He isn't one to run away from a situation like this, right? I have no choice but to trust him. He or my cell phone, if the rain lightens up a bit.

"Ugh." I tilt my head down as it rains harder, soaking through the hood of my rain jacket and getting my hair damp. It's starting to hurt more the faster it comes down, and the pool of water around me rises slowly above my ankles. Suddenly I hear an extra down pour of water, and look behind to see that there's a hole in the well where water is rushing in. _Dammit! Now the well's going to fill up faster!_

So much for using my phone. It'll be damaged before I can press a single digit out in this rain. _You want to live don't you? Mom's not ready to see you yet, and you're not ready to see her either._

I look down at the paper that I took from the rat, and flinch at a flash of lightning, but it provides enough light for me to see that my name is written on the paper. _Well, I'll read it before the water completely destroys it. _Hastily I unfold the paper and shield it from the rain with my head to the best of my ability. There's hand writing on this that I can't make out due to lack of light, so I pray for another flash of lightning.

Another one does come, and I catch the first line of the note:

_Vivian,_

_I've gone to get help._

That's all I need to read. Rick should be returning with an ambulance or something! I can trust him. Consistently he's been my knight in shining armor ever since he came back to Degrassi, something that I've never had before. I've had zero luck with boys throughout school. From sixth grade to the middle of ninth grade, I went to school with a class clown named Andrew Watkins, who had the grace of nicknaming me "Vivi-Midget." Unfortunately, the name stuck. I still shudder at the memories of a giant boy tugging at my ponytails and tickling my tummy. Worst of all, he did the cliche of holding my books high above his head where I couldn't reach them. Those times weren't the most memorable, but then again it wasn't like I was interested in the selection of boys: all of them were too stupid, ignorant, or rude—including the upperclassmen boys.

Rick isn't one of those guys. For one: maturity. For second: maturity, and third: maturity again. It's a wonder, due to my history, that a guy is actually sweet to me! Sure, I've helped him out a few times, but that's only because he has helped me as well—just like he's going to save me now. I cradle his message close to my chest. _Thank you, Rick. You've instilled a light in me after such a long period of darkness and grief._ Who am I kidding here? I'm fond of this kid, this good kid, who has gone to get me help, even if it means leaving me out here alone. He'll be back. I kiss Rick's note and tuck it into my jacket.

One of the rats crawls up to my chest again. "Didn't I tell you no?" I pick up the rat by the tail and hold it away from my face. I can tell that it's kicking its forelegs around. I sigh. _He's just avoiding drowning in the water. _I roll my eyes and set him down on the rim of one of my rain boots. _If you bite me, you're going in. _I look up at the top of the well again. It's not raining as much anymore, and tornado sirens aren't sounding, but I can't find relief in this well. _Now's the time to talk to someone on my phone._

Hastily, I dig into my pocket and whip out my cell phone. I flip the screen up to look at the monitor. _Damn!_ I discover my battery is only at 10%. _I can only make one call. Who should it be?_ It would be a great idea to call my dad: I hate the thought of him worried sick about me, but I decide that the persons to call is Rick: he saw me fall into this well, and that's probably the last time he saw me alive. He deserves to know that I'm not dead. I dial his number in less than two seconds.

"Pick up, Rick. Please." I beg out loud.

* * *

**Rick's P.O.V.**

A portion of my stress has been knocked off. I called Vivian's father to tell him the news concerning his daughter's condition. Telling Vivian's father about what happened to her was one of the most terrifying things I've had to do, second to telling my mother that I might have killed my girlfriend. Here I am sitting inside of my home, stuck here while Vivian is outside, just a few yards away, trapped inside the well. If I have learned anything about today's events, it's this: no one can make me feel like dirt. Not Spinner, Jay, Alex, Paige, Jimmy, and anyone else who tried to get rid of me at Degrassi. They don't know anything about anything about me, so their actions, their words are like tiny pokes in comparison to what happened today; what I did to Vivian. If she dies, it's my fault. I let her come with me; I put her in danger all because I was running away, like I always do.

My cell phone hasn't been charged, so I'm left waiting by my phone just in case Mr. Graham calls me. Mother's not home either, or I would have her wait to call Mr. Graham. I can't stop thinking about poor Vivian, and the image of her drowning is haunting me. Not Vivian: a living angel of all people!

In order to come to my senses, I walk into the bathroom and take off my glasses, setting them down on the sink. I stare at myself in the mirror. There I am with a long face and split hair; how it dries with no attempt to groom it. Unkempt in a nutshell. My physical appearance reflects the way I feel: like trash. I'm supposed to have changed through my therapeutic sessions and through counseling. I don't know who I am anymore. Even though I had serious anger issues last year and the year before, I knew who I was: the theater kid, but since my reputation as a psycho overbear-ed the minds of Degrassi students, my circle of people, who are all strange and unique just like me, have turned against me.

It's hard to believe that someone like me had friends to most people, but I did have a good friend. Jeff Bridges understood me on every level. I spoke in theater jargon, and he understood me without translation. He laughed at my jokes, which is something that I couldn't even get my past girlfriends to do. This morning when I tried to reconnect with the Thespian Troupe, in which Jeff is now the head member, they all pretended not to know who I am; it was as if I never joined the troupe at Grade 9. Jeff included. He claims that he never knew anyone who abused women, and would never be friends with the sort. Everyone who I encountered would at least acknowledge that they're disgusted with me and be honest, but to have a close friend or anyone tell you that you don't even know who they are and _pretend_ like there was no relationship between you and him EVER is a stab in the heart. I had a good friend once, and now he's gone like the rest of the student body. Everyone except Toby. And even Queenie who didn't like me before: she never said anything, but I could tell by her body language in theater class that she didn't care for my attitude. Back then I couldn't see it, but now, with a level head on my shoulders, I do.

As soon as I hear another voice from the living room, I escape my thoughts. Who's there? I dash into the living room, and gasp as I hear a voice coming from my cell phone. Her voice.

"Hello, Rick? It's Vivian." My heart skips two beats. "I'm calling to tell you that I'm okay, but this well is filling with water, and I won't be able to last long. Please hurry."

There's a sudden chill in the air. Her voice sounds so shaky. She's probably frightened, and that's enough to frighten me.

I rush over to the phone and pick it up, staring out at the rain. "Vivian? Vivian!" I say. "Listen to me: I'm so sorry for leaving you out there all alone. Are you okay?"

"Rick!" She cries, and I can hear the rain coming down hard on the other end. "Please hurry, Rick. This storm's getting worse, and this well is filling up with water! I don't know how long I have." Her voice is quaking as if she's about to cry.

My heart's hammering in my chest. She's alive, but she'll drown if someone doesn't reach her soon. _Stay calm_. I think. I have to talk to her to keep her talking; to confirm that she's alright on the other end. "The weather is hitting Toronto hard. There's another storm heading this way." _THAT'S supposed to calm her?_ "B-but thankfully not any tornadoes. Don't worry, Vivian. I'm right here. Keep talking to me." Hopefully I compensated enough from the latter.

I hear a gasp from Vivian. "You okay?" I ask again.

"I'm fine right now." She says. "So there's going to be more rain?"

"Yeah, unfortunately." I reply. "I've contacted your dad and an emergency crew. We're all coming to get you, okay?"

"How long will it take? This water's coming in fast..." Vivian's voice shakes again.

"It's okay. We'll be there soon." I have to be calm for Vivian's sake. "Keep talking to me. I thought you were...another Terri." The absolute worst day of my life happened the moment she fell and didn't get up. She was bleeding severely from the head—and_ I_ had done that to her. Thank god Vivian came to. I don't know what I would've done if she was in a coma...or dead.

"Good thing history didn't repeat itself, huh?" She sounds calmer now.

"It's a wonderful thing history didn't repeat itself." I reply.

"Ugh!" She squeaks on the other end. "Oh, you rats!"

"What?"

"You heard right!" Vivian responds. "They're just squeamish because of the rising water, but—AAAAAHHH!"

I hold the receiver away from my ears as Vivian screams at the top of her lungs. It reminds me of the sound of a helpless girl in a slasher movie getting stabbed; sharp, loud, and terrifying. It's as if my heart has been struck by lightning as it pounds quickly.

"Vivian, what happened? Are you alright?"

No reply. No connection.

"Vivian!"

The dial tone hums.

These next few seconds are all a blur. All I can recall is squeezing the phone in my hand. I don't remember throwing it at the front door; I don't remember when the door opened—with father on the other side; and I definitely don't remember it hitting him in the chest. It feels like I'm going to drop dead of a heart attack. For the first time in months, I lost my temper, and took it out on my father of all people.

The reaction on this man's face hardly registers. He just freezes, staring directly at me with the beady brown eyes I inherited.


	14. The Modern Day Caesar

**XIV. The Modern Day Caesar**

* * *

_"He was my friend, faithful and just to me; But Brutus said he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honorable man." -Julius Caesar  
_

* * *

I am so cold.

One of the rats stuck its teeth into my left leg. Being that my leg already has a long cut from my adventure in the park with Jay, it felt as if someone set it on fire. I didn't mean to scream so loudly into Rick's ear while we were talking, but now my phone's dead, and it's raining so heavily that the water has now reached my waist line.

There's nothing I can do. I'm trapped like a rat (more pun), and I can't climb out of the well myself. Either someone comes and saves me within the next ten minutes, or I drown in the rain. _I'm fifteen years old. It's not my time to die. I miss my mother, but I don't miss her THAT much! I need to be here for dad. For Vince. And...Rick._

I close my eyes as I think in the pounding rain. _Before we cut out, Rick told me he thought I was another Terri._

He's wrong. Terri didn't drown in a well. _No! I can't think like that! They're coming! Rick and daddy and an ambulance. I'm not going to die today!_

It's so hard to think positively with the rain showering me and the water rising around me, a reminder of my possible death. The rats are on my shoulders, avoiding drowning. I'm freezing from the water around me and the cold air. I shout at the top of my lungs for help. The sound of my voice echoes along the walls easily, but no one replies.

My eyes begin to sting. Sting from tears. Tears for the fear of dying; for the despair of having no way out; and for the guilt of not telling my father where I am. One streams down my face, then another, and their warmth is a pleasant contrast from the cold, painful drops of rain. My eyes fill with water, and the muscles in my face pinch up. The first hitched breath escapes my throat, and then I begin to sob. _I can't cry! I'm going to catch a cold!_ I draw in a shaky breath and calm myself. _Rick's breathing tips do work._

Rick. I don't realize until now how stupid we were going through all of those trees out in a thunderstorm, which has now subsided. We could have been struck by lightning out in the open _and_ underneath the trees. I could have been electrocuted out in this pool of water, but nothing happened. _Can I cheat death another time?_ I close my eyes after the last tear falls down my cheek. _Mom, don't you want to see me grow up?_

"Vivian!"

My eyes snap open. Was that a human? Am I imagining it?

"VIVIAN!"

That was much louder this time. That sounds like—_RICK!_

"I'M HERE!" I shout back.

A harsh beam of light shines directly in my eyes as I look up, and I shield my face with my arms.

"Step back!" Another voice shouts. "I'm going to throw this rope down, and I want you to hold on to it, alright?"

I obey, and a huge, thick rope falls into the well.

I wade towards the rope and hold on to it, wrapping my legs around it. I was always good at this in gym class, and now it's paying off. "I got it!" I say.

"Okay! We're pulling you up!" Says that other voice. It kind of sounds like Rick, only a little more mature and a little more deep.

Gradually, Rick and whoever is with him pull me up higher. The rain makes the rope slippery, and I fight to keep my grip, terrified of plunging into the water below.

"We're almost there." That voice grunts. I can see the two people at the top of the well: Rick and an older man. _His dad? _

As soon as I'm at the top, Rick grabs both my wrists. "I got you." He says gently and pulls me the rest of the way out. I press my boots against the ground to hoist myself up the rest of the way. Finally, I let go of the rope and take Rick's hands as he pulls me upright. As soon as he lets go, I jump into his arms, squeezing him like a teddy bear. He holds me tightly as well. "I got you." He whispers in my ear.

I shiver against Rick's warm body, who holds me closer and runs his hand over my shoulder and back. _He didn't wait for an ambulance,_ I think with tears forming in my eyes, _He came to get me on his own—with his father._ I bite back a sob as a tear falls down my cheek again until I lose the strength. I let it out, which miraculously isn't as forceful as I thought it would be.

"Get these rats off her." The man says, and I hear the squeals of the two rats as I feel them being lifted from my shoulders.

Caressing my back, Rick says in my ear, "We're taking you to our place, okay? To get you cleaned up." He grabs my waist and holds me out at arm's length.

"Okay." I manage to say, sniffling.

He draws me to his side, and we face the other person. "Father, this is Vivian. Vivian, this is my father."

There's so much of Rick I see in him: the oval-shaped head; the pointy, medium-sized nose; the brown eyes; and the smile. His brown hair is silvering along the edges, and there are a few wrinkles in his forehead, but he and Rick are the same. Mr. Murray is only maybe an inch or two taller than his son, which explains why Rick is so short.

I force a smile: even this takes a lot of effort from me. "Thank you for saving me. You and Rick both."

"Don't thank me for something like this." He says warmly. "I'd do it anytime." He walks towards me. "We need to get you inside before you catch a cold."

He unstraps the backpack from my back and leads Rick and me to his house. Rick keeps his arm around my shoulders as I shiver the entire trek back.

The Murray Living Room is still a warm and inviting sight, especially with the rain pattering peacefully outside against the window panes. Rick leads me upstairs to his bedroom where everything is in perfect order—until you look at his desk. Notebook papers and worksheets bury the table top like a giant, white trash heap. He gestures for me to sit at the foot of his bed as I shiver in my wet clothes in spite of removing my soaked raincoat. I watch him walk to his dresser drawer and pull out a read t-shirt with a crew neck and a plaid, button down colored red and white.

"I know these probably won't fit very well," Rick hands me his clothes, "but these are the smallest articles that I own, and they're nice and dry. There's a bathroom right next to my room a little down the hall where you can change."

I nod. "Thanks."

He replies with a shy smile. "I'd be quick about it. An ambulance or a firetruck should be here any minute, and they'll need to know if you're okay or not." He joins me on the bed. "A-are you okay?" I can see into his soul through his piercing, warm brown eyes.

"Being alive is beyond okay." I reply. "Especially since it's my good friend who saved me." Holding the side of Rick's face, I kiss his soft cheek slowly. There's so much warmth in his cheeks that I can feel it tingling my lips and spreading to my face. "A part from a little headache, I'm fine." I say softly.

Rick's smile grows. "I'd save you a thousand times over." He wipes a smudge of dirt off my cheek with his thumb. "Go clean up, m'lady. I'll be here when you come back." His thumb caresses my cheek delicately.

"Don't worry. I can't WAIT to get out of these clothes." I chuckle as I stand up.

Rick's face turns pink as he smiles nervously up at me. _There he goes again,_ I wave at him before heading down the hall. _Is he imagining me without any clothes on?_ I let out a soft giggle. _Rick, you're supposed to be a gentleman._

As soon as I close the door to the bathroom, I pull up the pants leg on my left. Just as I suspected: the rat that bit me re-opened the cut on my shin, causing it to bleed once more. There's more of a sting this time, and hard to ignore. _I'll have to ask for some ointment—again._ Impulsively, I bring my hand up to the spot where Rick touched my cheek with his thumb. _He's so gentle and so sweet._ _No wonder Terri liked him so much. And Ivory._

I freeze. No way. I'm not supposed to like Rick this way, even though I always _have_ liked him a little bit: I can't think straight if I have a crush on him! I can't accurately prove that he's a better human than last year. _Oh, well. You like him._ _You know you do_. Hastily I take off my sweater and put on Rick's red shirt._ It's not too big,_ I think. It makes sense: Rick's a little guy anyway, which means he had to have been smaller before now.

_Little enough for a petite girl like me to cuddle with._

What's wrong with me? I can't stop thinking about this kid! In THAT way! It's not helping that I'm in his house wearing his clothes! I'm engulfed in Rick's presence. I shrug. _Whatever. I can't stay in my clothes without catching pneumonia. Anyone else would loan me their clothes as well._ I put on the long-sleeved button down that matches the shirt and my black pants (conveniently). Next I go to the sink and rinse my face off in nice, warm water. As I clean myself up, another thought nags at me: _Does he like me too? _He calls me "m'lady" constantly, and what he said to me before I fell into the well is stuck in my head, however peculiar it was to say.

_"When you speak, I listen. You're my guide."_

What was that supposed to mean? I'm his "guide"? Define that for me: I guess it's because I talk to him whenever he's in a crappy mood. It's hard being someone like Rick: constantly reminded of something that happened in the past that he can't fix. Maybe we all didn't push a girl into a coma, but there have been cases of people murdering other people, and they manage to rehabilitate and change their ways? A lot of students at Degrassi are too one-sided about the issue to see that. He's sweet. He's (now) gentle, and he's sincere. Why can't everyone see his good qualities? That's what I can do! I'll write a list of all of the good qualities that describe Rick. The qualities that he needs to be known for. He saved my life. He took the initiative and came out to rescue me himself without waiting for emergency services to arrive. How can I _ever_ think horribly about him?

I'd be like Antony from Julius Caesar who spoke at Caesar's funeral, Caesar in contrast to what the conspirators thought of him: "_He gave me advice for my student council interview, consoled me while I was grieving for my mother, and saved me from drowning. Is that crude? But Spinner/Jay/Alex say he's a psycho. And Spinner/Jay/Alex are 'honorable students'."_

Point made.

The small things like cleaning up make me feel significantly better than I did before—and significantly sleepier. I'll have to ask Rick about a place where I can nap momentarily before my dad arrives. As I walk into his room, however, I find him absent._ Rick...?_He must have gone downstairs for something. I stare at the bed that suddenly looks cozy to me: warm and soft. _I'll just nap temporarily. Rick isn't here, and neither is anyone else. Can't they wake me up if my dad comes? I'm just so tired..._

I cave into my drowsiness and take off my damp socks. I pull the plaid comforter and white sheets back and climb in underneath. _Forgive me, Rick_. Cautiously I lay my head on his pillow, worn flat from use, and yet it's still so soft. As I plant my face into the pillow, I pick up the scent of Rick's hair.

As weird as it feels to sleep in my guy friend's bed, I'm too exhausted to care. A crescendo of footsteps catch my ear, but before I can see who it is, I sink into a blissful, wonderful slumber.

For a brief moment in unconsciousness, I think I hear a smooth whisper in my ear. Perhaps I'm dreaming, but the words being uttered are real enough to make the hairs on my spine stand.

_My sweet, little Vivian._


	15. Face It

Hello, dearest readers! I don't mean to brag, but I think I have the longest fan-fiction story EVER about Rick Murray at fifteen chapters! Thank you, thank you, THANK you for reading my story and giving me motivation to continue! I can't believe I'm this far in! I can't wait for you all to read this installment!

**XV. Face It**

* * *

**_"Richard...let me talk to you for a minute."_**

* * *

_10 October 2004 (evening)_

_There's a girl asleep in my bed: a sweet, beautiful little angel. Seeing her here, safe __and warm__ indoors, is the most soothing thing in the world right now. It's enough to help me concentrate on my homework from therapy. Yes: I have to do therapy work as well as school work now. The sessions will come to an end soon, so I don't mind doing __it__: it's a reminder of how close I am to finishing therapy. It's not that I hate attending a fifty-five-minute session, but they weren't how I'd thought they'd be: so much work is expected from the patient as well as the psychiatrist, __which has both its pros and cons._

_Vivian slept through the arrival of the firemen, and the ambulance is downstairs along with her father. Both men came upstairs to check on her, through which she was half asleep. The men politely asked me to leave the room while they looked over her minor injuries. It turns out she has a concussion. Both Vivian's father and my mother were all over her making sure she received the treatment and rest she needed. I suggested that she stay in my bed, and that I would sleep in the guest room, if it came to the point where she had to stay over night to get the rest she needs, the rest that she deserves._

_While all of that occurred, my father was the one who made efficient use of his time. He plans meticulously to have alone time with me: our father-and-son "bonding" moments, if you will. I know him: he's hardly in town, and when he does come home, he dedicates at least one moment of time for the two of us. I hate, hate HATE these!_

* * *

**Vivian's P.O.V**. **(The next day)**

"You guys totally have to make it official!" Manny rushes towards me, our faces only an inch or two a part. "He's in love with you, Vivian! Don't disappoint him: he let you stay in his house, Vivian, in his _bed_!"

"And get this, Manny: he didn't do anything else!" Queenie adds. "They just cuddled to keep each other company!"

"WHAT?" Manny causes all of the girls in the gym locker room to turn their heads our way. "He sounds so dreamy!"

I made the mistake of telling Queenie of spending the night at Rick's house and an even bigger mistake of letting her tell Manny. She left his name anonymous for safety and privacy, that for which I'm grateful. Heaven forbid the entire school find out about Rick and another girl together! Although I've never heard Manny say anything hateful or belittling about Rick, I know she's the type to spread news like wildfire.

"You never know with Manny." Queenie whispered to me before our conversation. "I heard that she can't keep her mouth shut if you paid her. If she knows that he's...", she looked around the room to make sure no one heard, "...Rick, then they'd bother _you_."

My heart sinks in remorse for not declaring my interest in Rick publicly. After knowing him for a month, I've developed a small crush on him. No, that's a lie: I have a HUGE crush on Rick. When I look at him and his facial expressions, they always reveal the utmost sincerity, and the fact that he's grown from the evil, abusive guy he was last year makes him all the more admirable to me. To top it all, he endures the daily routine of coming to school and suffering from blows by his classmates. _I'm really all he has a side from Toby._ I think. He deserves to have someone care for him, to show that he doesn't have to pay for what he did to Terri for the rest of his life. Now there's no excuse for Rick's poor treatment. He's no longer holding back his anger and learning how to kindle it, but he's now a victim, a target for bullying, which I find the most ironic thing considering how he was just earlier this year.

The ambiguity comes in about whether _he_ likes me in that way. I know he's grateful for me, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he finds me attractive. I definitely don't want him to think that he _has_ to possess feelings for me because I'm the only girl who talks to him. Am I even ready to be in a relationship, something I've never had before?

_On second thought..._dating Rick could be the very solution to cure everyone's shady outlook on his character. After all, the reason for the hostility he receives is because they think he's a danger to girls, the way he was a danger to Terri. And Ivory.

_Rick and Ivory?_ I shudder at the thought of them kissing each other. Maybe it's because we're no longer friends, but I see her as this girl who would do anything to get her way, anything to get me to believe that Rick is a horrible person who doesn't deserve another girlfriend all because he didn't treat her right in the past.

_She's still scarred from her experience. Poor Ivory._

* * *

**Rick's P.O.V.** **(Previous Night)**

"Richard." Father puts his hand on my shoulder. "Let me talk to you for a minute." He calls me 'Richard' though he _knows_ I prefer Rick. I bite my tongue. What's the use of correcting him? It'll only make matters worse than what they're already going to be.

We walk into the bathroom downstairs, the one with the dark red walls against the white tile floor. Mother picked out the off-white shower curtain splotched with giant red roses to enhance the red-and-white theme.

"Close the door behind you." He orders.

I do so, my hands shaking in the process. I try to break the ice; imagine trying to kill a tense silence between you and your own father. I can only see him frequently, thanks to his job, and while I should be over the moon to see him like any normal kid would, I'm anything but.

"Tell me what really happened to that girl, Richard." He's cool and aloof, yet he has the art of making a simple statement sound intimidating. "Did she really fall down into that well? The well that's been blocked off by a sign that says 'Danger: do not enter'?"

"She did, father." I respond firmly. "The wind blew the sign out of the ground, and I slipped on it on my way back home."

"Why were you taking that way to begin with? Out in the lightning and running through trees? What's gotten into your head, thinking that was a safe way to go in the first place?"

"I was avoiding trouble." I reply, matching his aloof tone of voice.

"You're fortunate enough that I have the money to cover the medical expenses for Vivian's father, and even more fortunate that Vivian just had a concussion. Dammit, boy, you think I'm made of money, don't you? Paying for surgeries for a comatose girlfriend and for all of those therapy sessions. They add up, Richard. I have to show these people that you come from generous folk, in spite of your poor choices that reflect on me and your mother. Next time something like this happens, another 'accident'-", he couldn't say this more sarcastically, "-I start taking money from your savings account. Is that clear?" He stares at me with a frown.

I stand up straight. "Yes. Yes, sir."

Father turns his back on me and rinses his face off in the sink, occasionally looking at me through the mirror. I stare back, this time not looking away from his gaze.

It took much work in the past to master this.

* * *

**Vivian's P.O.V. (The Next Day)**

"So...have you decided on a theme for the quiz show?" Queenie asks me as we sit on the benches in the locker room.

"Oh!" I widen my eyes. _I completely forgot about that!_ "No, unfortunately, I didn't."

"Yeah that's right: you couldn't have with all that was happening to you. Seems you had quite the night last night." Queenie sighs. "You scared me to death, Vivian. Again!" She says "again" literally like "a _gain_". "How do you get yourself in trouble twice in less than a week's worth of time?"

I smile nervously. "I don't know." I stuff my gym clothes into my bag. "Caring too much?"

"More like caring too little." Queenie says. "I know about that well that you fell into. There was supposed to be a sign out in front of it that said 'danger: don't enter', or something like that."

"Yeah. _Supposed_ to. The wind blew it away." I say. "Rick slipped on it on the way back, where we were a few feet away from it."

"Listen, Vivian..." Queenie stares at me with her light brown eyes. I always thought her eyes were pretty, especially when she's emotional: you can see them sparkling.

Her seriousness catches me by surprise, and I take back my seat next to her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just...I've been thinking about you and Rick a lot, and...I think you would really be good for him, and he for you." Queenie stares at me.

My heart freezes in my chest. She's been thinking about this too. "What makes you so certain?"

"Well, you're the bravest of anyone at Degrassi for standing up for him. Rick needs someone like you as a backbone. And as for _you_, sister," she flicks my ponytail, "you've been grieving for far too long. I know he doesn't replace the love of your mother, god I hope not," she chuckles, "but it's about time a boy makes you happy and takes your center focus away from your mom."

Queenie smiles warmly. "I've seen your face light up a MILLION times at just the mention of Rick. He knows how to treat you, which is the weirdest thing considering how he was just last year. I would have _never_ recommended someone like him to a good girl like you, but...now it's in his demeanor that he's a different guy, and not one claiming to be different just to manipulate girls into his...er, possessive trap?" She rolls her eyes at the choice of words. "You get what I'm saying! Go be with him."

I stare at my best friend, who, like Rick, I've only known for a month or so, but it feels like I've had her since kindergarten. She's still staring at me with a heartfelt, brown gaze. I don't like it: I'm not used to it: she's usually energetic and easygoing, not...emotional. "You, you think he would...?"

"Oh, listen to how modest you sound!" Queenie exclaims. "Of course he would! He already adores you! He just doesn't know it yet because he's a boy. If he comforts you while you sleep, why the hell wouldn't he?"

"Because I'm not a blonde, white girl!" I say in a sharp whisper. Immediately I cover my mouth. It's not everyday I would think the lamest of a person, but if there's one flaw I can't shake of Rick's, it's neither his past or his eminent quirkiness. It's the list he composed of his top twenty crushes, and how I don't even qualify for his top three. This I tell to Queenie, whispering so none of the girls in the locker room will hear.

"I thought he was better than that, Queenie." I say. "I thought he had grown significantly during the month's following Terri's incident, but still he has—"

"Vivian, shut up." Her tone: it's so calm and calculated it's like she's possessed.

"What?" I squint at her in disbelief.

"You heard me." She replies with only a little more agitation in her voice. "What's _wrong_ with you? Are you that insecure about yourself that you're using his list as an excuse not to go out with him? He's a fucking teenager, Vivian, and a teenage _boy_ at that!" Now Queenie is frustrated. "Haven't you got a mental list of any guy crushes you have, if not written down? What's even worse is that you implied that your friend is prejudice!" She raises her voice.

The bell rings, releasing the girls from class.

"I didn't mean to—"

"Yes you did." Queenie persists. "But that's okay. I see now that you're scared to have something good happen to you, even though it would be so much better than the nightmares you've been having about your mom." She raises her voice as girls move past us out of the room, chatter filling the space. "But remember this: no one is perfect, Vivian. Stop putting Rick up on a pedestal. Hasn't he gone through enough thanks to our stupid classmates? Don't you trust my word on Rick, especially since I've known him before?"

"Queenie, why are you so obsessed over what's best for me?" I blurt out. "I can decide what's best for myself without your guidance!"

"So I see." She replies sarcastically.

"Queenie, here's my advice for you. Are you ready? Get a boyfriend so your nose isn't in my business!" I shout.

Queenie's eyes widen, and so do mine. _I can't believe I said that. _I open my mouth to speak, but Queenie beats me. "Fine." She glares at me. "Apparently you have everything together. Let's see how far you'll go. Pardon me for being such a 'bad,' caring person."

She grabs her gym bag and storms out of the locker room, leaving me alone. It's our fist fight ever.

Can't we call it a day?

* * *

**Rick's P.O.V.** **(Previous Night)**

"What do you mean, Richard," Father turns to face me again, "when you say you were avoiding trouble, and how is it that Vivian tagged along with you on this little venture of yours?"

He's always one to sniff out the truth. I could lie to anyone else, _everyone_ else, but him. He's a human lie detector.

I feel sweat forming under my armpits. "W-well," I hate it when I stammer, "I ran across a few kids at school who I don't get along with, and Vivian isn't fond of them either. I was trying to avoid them—"

"As in run away from them in order for them to not see you?" Father grins sinisterly, then laughs out loud. "I've raised a great child here. My courageous son." He covers his face with his hand, muffling his malicious laughter. "So where does the girl fit into the equation?"

I can feel my face turning red. "Vivian," I emphasize her name, "wanted to keep me company. I tried to dissuade her, but she wouldn't let up. She wanted to come with me."

"Are you blaming the girls again for your poor actions?" Father scoffs. "Could this look any better for you, Richard? You think I forgot about what happened to the Terri girl you were dating?"

"You're being unfair." I say, and he glares at me. I don't care anyone. I have to continue. "Vivian _voluntarily_ came with me in an attempt to keep me dry out in the rain. We took the shortcut back to the house, I slipped on the warning sign knocked lose by the wind, and Vivian fell into the well being curious about the location. Ask her: she'll give you the exact same story."

"Is that so?" Father asks.

"It is."

He stares at me. "Alright. I believe you however ridiculous the story sounds, but then again, it is _you_ we're talking about, so anything goes." Father moves towards me. "I will ask Vivian, but first you and I have some bonding time to make up for."

My heart pounds in my chest. "Father, that's quite alright." I turn for the door. "I think I'm going to go back to my homework now."

I barely get the door open when father rushes in front of me and slams it. "I insist, my son."

"Dad, please." I call him dad impulsively when I'm desperate, hoping to see an actual father within him that he once was before I grew up. Before he introduced me to tough love. "I have to do my homework."

"Oh you'll have plenty of time. This won't take long. I have better things to do as well, but you have to learn, Richard. Now," his voice hardens for the first time during our conversation, "Take off your shirt." I watch his hands fiddle with his belt on his pants.

"Father, I swear: everything that happened today was an accident. Y-you don't need to do this."

"I'm the one who determines who needs to do what around here." He raises his voice, "and I asked you to do something. Do you really want to make your life even more miserable than what it already is?"

I stare at him, sweat falling down my face.

"I'll ask you again: Take. Your. Shirt. Off. _NOW._"

Casually I remove my gray, plaid button-down and pause for a millisecond, staring at my father. He looks at me with the coldest glare, his face as stiff as a gargoyle's. "We've been through this before. Turn around." He says tartly.

I obey and slowly expose my bare back to him. As I hear him unstrap his belt, as goosebumps cover my entire back, I use my twisted ways of calming myself down.

_Bite your bottom lip to keep from impulsively crying out._

_Think of all of the times your back has been smashed into a locker—this is only a little bit worse._

_Close your eyes._

_Do_ not_ cry._

_Think of something pleasant._

My last mental advice actually works. A pleasant face enters my mind. Imagining her smile is enough to make me feel as if I'm numb.

Numb when I hear the belt slice through the air. And crash down on my back.

An infinity amount of times.


	16. After I and Before V

_Hello, guys! My sincere apologies for having you wait two months until my next chapter! Usually when an author has his or her update spaced out, it's a sign that he/she may quit the story, but I promise that's not the case with mine! Let's just say that I learned that I need to have back up files when saving important documents. Here's to you patient readers!_

**XVI. After "I" and Before "V"**

* * *

_"I didn't claim to love her: I _did_ love her."-Rick  
_

* * *

It's in moments like these when I wish that I could be a guy: a tall, buff, masculine jock. People would take me more seriously when I'm infuriated and storming through the halls. Their expressions would be terrified and read, "I'd better get out of his way before he tramples me." as opposed to "What is it that that little girl has to be pissed off at?" Not that I'd care either way; not when I'm angry anyway, but if only students would just get out my WAY when I'm walking!

I slam my hands against my locker as I approach it. WHY did we have to fight with each other? Why was Queenie so determined to ship Rick and I?

_I can't be mad at her._.. Truth is, I'm not angry with her. I'm angry with myself. Me and my pride got me into this nonsense. I sigh. _Way to go, Vivian._

I grab my notebook for my MI class with Mr. Simpson and slam my locker door shut. Okay, so I'm a little anxious about moving our relationship to the next level. It's less stress that way being just friends with Rick. And in Rick's case it's _significantly_ less stress. Imagine what my classmates would think of me, how they would treat me differently because I'm dating the weirdo in the school! I sigh again. _How could Rick carry on day after day living like this? Co-existing with peers who don't give a damn about him or his feelings?_

"Oh my gosh! Ter is totally rocking the cover!"

I'm yanked back to reality at the sound of Paige's voice. I turn around and see and her friend Hazel (?) opening a magazine. My curiosity piques as I recognize it as the same _ON_ magazine I got from Ms. Sauve's office. "Ter" can't be the girl that Paige is referring to on the cover, can she?

I'll find out. "Hey, Paige."

She looks up with her wide blue eyes. "Oh, Vivian! I've taken you've seen _Mean Girls_ with the outfit and all."

"Thanks for noticing." Like every other teen girl, I had seen _Mean Girls_ in theaters earlier this year. In admiration of the movie, today I decided to wear a red, long-sleeve v-neck; a blue plaid skirt; and black knee highs with patent-leather Mary-janes. It's one of Lindsay Lohan's featured outfits during the movie. My old friends and I went to see it in April before I moved away.

"What are you looking at?" I ask. "Were you referring to someone on that magazine?" I must sound like an eager beaver asking Paige questions that are completely irrelevant to me, but whatever; I'm curious. Nancy Drew tendencies are perpetually embedded within me.

"Uh, yeah." Paige holds up the magazine. "Oh that's right! You weren't here last year; you're the new girl from the States. Okay, hun, long story short, this is Terri McGregor, the glamorous girl who's rocking the front cover, and she modeled much like she is now until she fell under Rick's spell." She rolls her eyes. "Gorgeous, isn't she? She didn't need a psycho to tell her that."

Because I'm closer to Paige than my locker at this point, where an exact duplicate of the magazine rests in my backpack, I walk over and get a good glimpse at the girl on the cover.

Oh. My. God.

This girl...this Terri McGregor is absolutely BEAUTIFUL. Picturesque. Eye Candy.

Her dark, almost black, hair is swept over her right shoulder, also the angle where her head is tilted, and her hair cascading down past her chest. She has a healthier, bustier figure than the typical model. I stare in awe at her royal blue dress she's wearing, which accentuates her body frame really well. In the photo her eyes are fierce with thanks to her arched eyebrows and the glow of her hazel-green eyes. I look down at the large white captions on the bottom right corner of the cover that read, "Standing back up. Student and Plus-sized model Terri talks about overcoming insecurities about her body image and surviving an abusive relationship."

The blood runs cold in my body. This is definitely Rick's Terri. She's absolutely breathtaking to stare at regardless of the fact of how the cosmetics and special effects play a huge role in enhancing her beauty.

"Okay, hun. Watch your saliva." Paige tucks the magazine under her arm. "There are plenty of other copies to ruin."

I blink and shake my head. "Sorry." I say, looking at Paige and her smirk. It's almost as if she enjoys the reaction I gave her. She runs a hand through her long, loose blonde strands. I stare at them: for some reason her curls look more fluffier today; more appealing._ She's beautiful too._ I think. I'm surprised that Rick doesn't have her on his list. The same I can say for Hazel: her rusty, brown, frizzy hair goes well with her dark brown skin, almost as dark as mine's. I could definitely see Terri being friends with them.

"I know." Paige smirk grows. "It's hard to resist her beauty and harder to believe that she would ever go out with someone as awkward-looking and psychotic as Rick." There's no mistaking the disgust in her voice. "See ya around, dear." She walks past me with Hazel right by her side.

Paige is right on one thing: Terri McGregor is a knockout. Her two cents about Rick, however, is bologna! I agree that he doesn't have the typical physical characteristics that girls go for: tall, muscular, etcetera, but he's far from awkward looking! Sure, he's a nerd, but all nerds are attractive in their own unique way. Speaking of which, how did Rick, a person at the bottom of the student hierarchy _without_ his abusive reputation, land Terri so easily? No, it's not impossible, but still...it sounds as if Rick had never been a popular guy at Degrassi.

_Oh, shut up. You're in love with that geek._

The thought alone sends goosebumps crawling down my spine. As of last night, it became true.

* * *

**Rick's P.O.V. (previous night)**

My hands tremble as I pick up my pencil. _I can't do these exercises now,_ I think, _I'm too exhausted._ I'm going to work through it though, which is all I can do, all I can ever do. I survived another night with my dad through one of his beatings. The numbness I felt during the impact of his blows to my bare back has long since evaporated, and agony is clawing at it now like the scratch of a grizzly bear raking its claws across my skin. That leather belt stings and itches at the same time! It makes me feel disgusting!

Father helped to clean my wounds with Neosporin this time. Usually when he's pissed at me, he'd grab the bottle of pure alcohol and clean my wounds with that, and because he hits me with his belt in places that are hard to reach by myself, I'm helpless to stop him. I can't rely on my mother to clean the wounds; she's oblivious to our father-and-son times. Thank god he took it easy on me tonight. Perhaps it's because he hasn't seen me in a while; perhaps it's because he didn't want to make a giant scene in front of company. Regardless of the reason, I'm grateful.

I sit at the desk in my bedroom now, attempting to complete my Pre-caluclous exercises, but to no avail. My body is still suffering from the trauma that happened to me just an hour ago, but I have to get this done by tomorrow.

Instantly I think of the person in my bed and turn around to look at her.

Vivian: what a peaceful sight she is lying there, the subtle rise and fall of her chest telling me she's sound asleep. Cautiously I stand up from my desk and tread softly over to the bed where she lies. I can't help but smile at her slightly parted lips, making her breathing audible. The covers are pulled up over her shoulders, and her hands are joined together next to her face on the pillow. The way she's curled up under my covers, like an innocent little child, is endearing. A few loose strands of black hair lay in front of my face, and I suppress the urge to tuck them back behind her ear; the idea of touching her in a slumber sends chills down my spine. _Don't invade her solitude. Disturb her sleep. She needs the rest._ I freeze in place once Vivian squirms under the covers, moaning softly. I watch her stretch her legs out underneath the covers and curl them back up. She frowns as she lies still yet again. I sigh in relief. _Poor Vivian: her concussion is still bothering her._

Expeditiously I return to my desk before she wakes up. I return my focus to the Pre-calculous problems sitting in my textbook, forcing myself to summon all of the mental drive that I can muster. It works: I breeze through trig identities in a maximum of fifteen minutes. It's a stunt that frightens even me. Even the loud scraping of pencil against notebook paper doesn't wake Vivian while I work. Hand shaking, I allow myself to drop the pencil when I finish and sigh. _Alright, time to sleep._

"Were you watching me earlier?"

I jolt upright at the sound of her voice, and hastily turn around to see her sitting up, propped up against the pillows on the headboard. My heart beats rapidly in my chest, but it's not the same as when I was with my father earlier...

"I felt a presence of another person next to me while I was sleeping." Vivian continues. "It was you, wasn't it?" She smiles at me.

I run a hand through my hair. Either Vivian's a light sleeper, or I'm not as sneaky as I thought. "Um, yes, you've caught me." I chuckle nervously.

She giggles. "You're blushing you know."

Now I can feel the heat rushing to my face. "You don't miss anything."

"Well, it's kind of hard to miss a person's skin change color." Vivian smiles even more, then she gasps. "Would you like me to move? If you need to go to bed, I can always go to a different room." She begins to peel back the covers.

"No! No, stay there." Hastily I move towards the bed. "You need to rest. I can sleep in the guest room tonight."

"Last I checked, _I'm_ the guest, Rick." Vivian pushes the covers back. "Besides this is your room. I wouldn't feel right sleeping here."

"Vivian", I move the covers back, "I'm telling you it's alright. Stay here, okay?"

She doesn't protest this time. "Okay." She answers. "Thanks."

"Of course." I say. "Are you hungry? I can get you an apple or an orange downstairs."

She shakes her head. "I'm fine, but...," I watch her fiddle with her fingers. "W-what are you going to do right now?"

I chuckle. "Uh...go to sleep? It's been a long day for me as well as you." I sigh.

She rolls her eyes playfully. "Okay, that wasn't the smartest question, but I was just wondering if you..." She pauses and looks down at her lap.

"What is it?" I press.

"Stay here tonight. With me. Please?" Vivian says this quickly, as if she's been bashful to say it.

My heart freezes in my chest. I look at her, and she stares back with the widest dark eyes I've ever seen on her.

"Vivian, I can't do-"

"Please?" She says. "I know it's weird, but I don't want to be left alone right now. I'll feel more at ease if there's someone I know that's with me while I go to sleep."

"My parents are here, Vivian, and your dad is coming back for you in the middle of the night."

"Rick, it's only until I fall asleep. Please? You look like you're going to collapse any second." She reaches for my hand.

I let her hold it, my own thoughts succumbing me. If I did sleep with her, and _only_ sleep with her, there's no harm done, right? Vivian and I are friends, supposed to be friends, and friends comfort each other all of the time. This shouldn't be any different just because I'm a guy and she's a girl.

I take in a deep breath and release it. "You sure are persistent." I sit on the edge of the bed and take off my shoes. "I'll be right back, okay? I'm going to change." I stand up and look at Vivian.

I must be red all over again, seeing her smile at me. "Thank you, Rick." She says.

I smile back and nod before leaving the room. There's no way I'm moving into the guest room tonight.

* * *

**Vivian's P.O.V. (Next day)**

I find myself leaning against my locker after closing it. I revisit everything that has happened within these last twenty-four hours. _Queenie had been right all along,_ I think, _and I had been so stubborn to her._ I'd probably hate myself right now if my mind wasn't occupied with events that happened the night before. Imagining it all over again is enough to throw me out of it.

* * *

**Rick's P.O.V. (Previous night)**

As I return to my room, I find Vivian sitting up against the pillows and smiling at me. Just how I left her. I can't risk her seeing the wounds on my back, or let her know that I'm in any physical pain whatsoever, so I smile back at her.

She scoots over on the bed. "How bad is your vision without your glasses?" She asks.

"Uh, pretty bad." I respond, taking off my glasses. "But I can still see you pretty well, and be able to recognize your features. As for the clock on that wall above my desk," I face the direction of my clock, staring at the blur of black that are supposed to be numbers, "I'm close to blind."

This gets a giggle out of Vivian. "Okay: you're not totally blind." She jokes.

"What a relief." I join Vivian on the bed and lay my legs on top of the covers.

Vivian moves closer and wraps her arms around me. I tense as her arm presses against my back, but relax as her embrace loosens a little. "Am I hurting you?" She asks me.

_Just a little._ "Not at all." I reply.

"Good." She leans her head against my chest. Now I can't breathe. I recall her doing this before, but the thought of it happening alone drives me insane. Slowly I wrap my arm around her. She feels much warmer now: a pleasant contrast to when she was shivering cold and drenched with rainwater.

I hug her close. "Feeling better now? I apologize for all of this, Vivian. Everything is my fault."

"What are you apologizing for? My accident?" Vivian looks up at me. "Stop doing that! I'm held accountable for my own actions, Rick. You tried to warn me, and I didn't listen. This is my fault."

"Yeah, but still, I didn't-"

"Do anything wrong." Vivian cuts me off. "Listen to me: this accident is just stirring up bad memories from your past, and you're thinking of the guilt you felt then when you were responsible for what happened. Did you push me down into the well, Rick?"

I exhale. "No. I didn't."

"Exactly." Vivian gives my waist a little squeeze. "End of story. Stop killing yourself over this."

I lean my head against hers. "Well I certainly don't feel good about what happened."

"It's called having a conscious." Vivian replies. "Which further proves that you aren't a psychopath like everyone at school ignorantly claims that you are." She snuggles her head against mine, and I sigh.

"You're probably the only person that believes so." I say.

"Bet I can name a few others who believe so as well." She says. "Hmm? Let's see...there's Toby, Emma, and even Queenie." She looks up at me. "Not a lot of people, but I'm definitely not the only one." She chuckles.

"Touche." I say at last. An earlier memory of Queenie comes to mind. I think she was in my theater class last year. She was: that animated, ball of energy she had as a niner was unmistakable.

"Did you know that Queenie was in my theater class year?" I say a loud.

"I think she mentioned it to me before." Vivian answers. "Did you know her well?"

"Well...sort of." I reply. "We always ended up working together, so I grew used to her constant fiery energy, but we didn't really talk outside of class much."

Vivian laughs. "Yep, that's her. She's exactly the same now."

"I can tell." I say. "It's me who's different."

"Rick." Vivian places her hand against my chest.

"What's wrong?" Impulsively, I brush the loose strands of hair from her face, causing tingles to ripple throughout my body.

"Was...Terri in your theater class too?"

My heart turns to stone. I can't think about Terri without punishing myself for what I did to her.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about her." Vivian rubs my back, which shockingly feels great in spite of the cuts.

"I think I owe you an explanation." I say.

And it all comes pouring out: the way I met Terri for the first time; how I anonymously left roses taped to her locker as her secret admirer; and the way I was gentle and affectionate towards her while simultaneously unleashing a monster on her on more than one occasion. I even go into detail of how I hurt her: grabbing her wrist, pushing her against a cardboard wall, slapping her across the face. I also tell Vivian about the ways in which I tried to compensate for it.

The deeper I dive into the topic, the more I notice Vivian snuggling up against me. What a pleasant feeling it is: this educated, caring girl pressing herself up against me, sharing her warmth, listening to me talk. This doesn't happen at all when your name is Rick Murray. _What an angel,_ I find myself thinking. _How unlike the others she is_. I don't know why she lets someone like me be so close to her, hold her and touch her. I don't understand what it is she notices about me that she thinks is wonderful, but I won't question it. I need all of the friends I can get, and she's one of them.

"Do you know why you did those things to her, Rick? Why you hurt Terri though you claimed to have loved her?" Vivian asks.

"I didn't claim to love her." I reply instantly, bitterly. "I _did_ love her. I don't know why I acted the way I did. I wish I had a logical explanation for it, one that makes sense, but I don't. I don't understand why I reacted the way I did. All I know is that what I did was horrible, and that I've changed since then." I can feel my body growing tense.

"Rick, you're squeezing me too tightly." Vivian says calmly.

I gasp. "Oh. I'm sorry." I move my arm away.

"It's okay. I didn't ask you to stop hugging me." She puts my arm back around her waist.

I feel my heart hammering in my chest. I nearly blacked out again, and I almost took it out on Vivian! _Calm yourself. Remember what your therapist taught you._

"You're telling me that nothing major happened to you during your childhood that lead you to being abusive?"

"No. It's just me, okay? I lost my temper. It was my fault. _Everything._" I'm not the victim here; sure my father says things to me that are so belittling that at times I wish I didn't exist, but he never lost his temper. That's something I've picked up entirely on my own.

I feel Vivian sigh against me. "Alright, Rick, so as long as you promise one thing."

I look at her, one of my eyebrows arching. "What's that?"

"Stop punishing yourself for what you did." Vivian says. "You're so much better than that. You came back to Degrassi, and you've owned up to your faults. Already you're the most courageous person I've ever met. Just don't torture yourself, okay? It won't make matters better."

"Thanks for believing in me. I promise I won't punish myself." I delicately move in and kiss Vivian's cheek. She doesn't pull away; she let me come in contact with her smooth skin.

She smiles at me and rests her head against my chest once again. I move the covers back in order for me to move underneath them. I place the covers over the both of us and hold Vivian with both arms.

"I'm sorry I've been so needy lately." She whispers to me.

"You're never needy, m'lady." I rub her back. "You've had a long day. And I wasn't replacing the blame when I said this was my fault. It was."

"Rick-"

"I ran away when I could've stayed and stood up for myself. It _is_ my fault, Vivian. Maybe you were the one that slipped, but I was the one who led you out there in the first place."

"Rick, I think it's really sweet of you to try and protect me from every mishap that occurs, but you're torturing yourself again." Vivian says. "I won't stand for it. Today you've showed me that you're not what people say you are. You're different than you were before. For a moment I lost hope out there in that cold, dark well, and you took it upon yourself to save me." Her voice cracks. "You're the sweetest, Rick. The _sweetest_. Tell me how doing something like that makes you such a bad person."

I watch as she sits up abruptly and wipes a tear from her face. "Hey." I follow suit and put my hands on her shoulders. "You're safe now, and in a warm place."

"I know. It's thanks to you." Vivian wraps her arms around my shoulders. "I just keep thinking about what would've happened if you didn't come."

I hold her close. "I see." This is why she wants company. "It's alright. Come on: let's get some sleep."

We both lie back on the pillows, and she leans against my chest. "Comfortable?" I ask her.

"Mmm-hmm." She replies.

I look down to see her eyes closed. Gently I caress her back until I can feel her breathing evenly; the sign that she's fallen asleep, and only after a few minutes. Once more I look down at her. She's frowning with her eyes closed, as if she's having a dream.

_Sweet dreams_, Once again, I move in and kiss her, this time in the center of her forehead, as softly as possible. Finally I feel myself growing drowsy, and reach over to the lamp on the bedside desk and turn it off.

I need Vivian as well as she needs me. She wondrously eases the pain on my back. I knew she would.

* * *

** Vivian's P.O.V. (Next day)**

Re living last night makes my knees buckle. I can't believe he agreed to sleep in the same bed as me!_ Which means he likes you too, you idiot._

My heart skips a beat at the thought. Let me get to class before I'm swept away by another daydream.

But even as I walk, thoughts of him come back to me. The fact that he is in my next class doesn't help at ALL.

_I really should apologize to Queenie. She was right all along._


	17. Another Nancy Drewback

**XVII. Another Nancy Drewback**

* * *

_"Come on: I'm her friend. There's no need for her to hide anything from me."_

* * *

"How original." Alex rolls her eyes at me once I tell her my idea for the Whack-Your-Brain theme.

"If you wanted to come up with something better, you didn't have to give me the job." I cross my arms.

"But Halloween? You couldn't think of anything else? That would cost us a load of money for the council, and even if we pulled off a thriftier version of it, it wouldn't even look good."

I sigh. "Okay, okay. I'll try again. Come to think of it, the proposal _was_ a little vague." I hang my head low in thought. "Well...how about we not come up with a theme at all? If we can't afford to spend a lot of money on decoration, maybe we shouldn't."

"What? And have our school look plain on camera?" Marco comes up to the two of us. "Come on, Vivi G. Give us something magical and sudden, kind of like your existence here at Degrassi." He smiles and rolls his eyes at himself.

"Clever." I chuckle. "Look, I don't think that's such a bad idea. It wouldn't be false advertising. Or if it bothers you so, maybe we could have like a sort of hidden theme or something."

"Hidden theme?" Both Marco and Alex echo, wearing identical looks of bewilderment: eyebrows arched, glares featured.

"Yes, it sounds bizarre; it did to me when I first heard of it as well, but listen." I hover close to Marco and Alex. "Last year our school co-sponsored a girls' beauty pageant, and our student council was able to come up with a theme for the final round. We kept it secret from even the contestants and their parents. They didn't know what they were getting into until they walked on the stage. We pulled back the curtains, and voila, on the stage was a Hollywood, night under the stars theme; we thought it was relevant for the lucky girl who would be crowned the winner."

I exhale, looking at the two students in charge of Degrassi's student council. I'm pretty sure they think that I dream about rainbows and flowers, if they haven't already before.

"I find it too much to handle that you're actually serious about that." Alex remarks snarkily. Shocker.

"What's wrong with that? Sure: why not do something like it?" Marco says. "It's creative."

"You can't be serious." Alex looks over at Marco.

"It is an idea from another student council, and a good one." Marco counters. "Then again, Alex, Vivian is right: if you don't like the ideas that she comes up with, you can always decide for yourself." He grins playfully at her. "Wasn't that your job to begin with?"

I suppress my laughter as Alex rolls her eyes again. "Whatever. All I'm saying is that it's a good idea, but we just don't have the time or money to pull it off."

I shrug. "I totally understand. Then it's in stuco's best interest if we drop the idea of a quiz bowl theme altogether."

"You win." Alex turns and walks away.

"Did I?" I turn to Marco. "Do you know why she shot down _all_ of my ideas?"

"Ah," Marco shrugs his shoulders, "it's because you're more of an idealist and she's a realist. Don't take it heavily; she's always like that."

"If you say so." I sigh.

"Hey, points for holding your ground though." Marco pats my back. "Most people give in to Alex's hot head. What's made you so bold lately?"

_Being friends with, oh I don't know, Rick?_ I shrug. "Well, I guess that's all I have for you guys. Here are the names of everyone that showed up for the meeting." I hand Marco a clipboard with several student signatures.

"Fabulous as you always are, Vivi G. Thanks." Marco winks at me before leaving the library himself.

I smile after him. The nickname Vivi G. is a Marco original, so I let him call me by it; after all, it's better than the dreaded "Vivi-midget."

I grab my backpack from one of the library tables and exit the room as well. A to-do list is slowly compiling itself, and I've yet to tackle one of the many tasks on it, starting with that damn trunk dream: I dozed off during lunch and that brief flashback invaded my rest. I can't take it anymore! I need to investigate this _now._

I whip out my cell phone and shoot a text message to Queenie:

_Do you have time? I want to drop by ur house this afternoon._

There's a moment of hesitation before sending it. I haven't talked to her since our little feud yesterday morning. Going twenty-four hours without any contact with Queenie is a sure sign of an apocalypse. _I'll drop by her house and apologize to her. Then we can be friends again._ What a comforting thought it is to reunite with my best friend. I send my message. Next, I'll do what Ms. Sauve suggested and find that trunk in our house. I don't think dad and I left anything behind in our old house in Chicago. The trunk should be with us, right? Why would dad throw it out?

My notification alarm buzzes, and I look down at the screen on my phone. Queenie. _Be something great._

I flip open my phone and read:

_Sorry. Busy right now._

My heart sinks. I guess it's still too soon for us to make up.

But suddenly I receive another message:

_It's not that I'm mad at you still about yesterday! Promise! I really am busy. Talk later, K?_

I catch myself smiling. That was a Queenie response. A giant wave of relief washes over me. _Our friendship is saved. Good_.

I walk over to my locker through the empty corridors of Degrassi. I don't recognize the school during after school hours. I can hear the pad of my footsteps echoing along the walls; see my reflection in the double doors a few feet in the distance. It's creepy. Thank goodness I'm not in a horror film.

I swiftly take my denim jacket out of my locker and slide both of my arms in at once. I glance around the corridor after I slam the locker door. So many memories have been created in this hallway alone. So much chaos with tension in between students. So much aggressive behavior.

At least nothing happened today. Then again, the target wasn't around to give bullies a reason to pick on everybody. Rick had been sick today, which is weird considering he was just fine the day before. I was a little disappointed obviously: we hadn't had a meaningful conversation since...well _that_ night. Since then the memory of Rick kissing my cheek has been replaying itself in my mind over. It was completely out of no where; well, not entirely, if I had kissed him earlier that evening. Still the sensation was lovely: I can feel his soft, warm lips on my cheek when I touch it.

So what's up with him now? I walk towards the double doors that lead to Degrassi's lobby area. Did I imagine him avoiding me yesterday, or was he suddenly that busy? _You're an important part of his life; not his whole life_. I remind myself. _Surely you'll see him tomorrow_. The thought alone drives me insane; I've finally accepted that I can no longer think of Rick as just a friend anymore.

I walk through the school's front doors and head towards my father's blue minivan, the gleam of the sun reflecting off of its shiny coat. The shiny sapphire appearance is always a giveaway that dad went to the car wash.

Hastily I open the door to the passenger seat. "Dad. Work was normal today?"

"It was." He answers. "How's your concussion? You're not wearing yourself out are you?"

I roll my eyes. "No, dad." I close the door. _I know where this is going..._

"Haven't been cuddling with any certain boys, have you?"

"Dad!" I screech, my face heating up more of embarrassment than of anger. "I needed company; I keep telling you this."

"I know, I know." Dad says calmly. "Just understand where I'm coming from, dear. It's hard watching your only daughter in the arms of some teenage boy."

"But we didn't do anything." I remind him. "We just slept with each other. And not the _sleep_ sleep either."

"I know, sweetie." Dad stares at me. "You're just so grown up from the little girl I used to know."

I shrug. "It's a part of life." I look out of my passenger window.

"So it is." Dad starts the engine and pulls out of the parking lot, leaving the school building in the rear.

There's nothing occurring except for the sound of the radio playing an Earth, Wind and Fire song: a favorite band of dad's.

"By the way, Vivian, I'm taking you to Queenie's house so you can get your pillow that you left there a few weeks ago."

This time I turn to look at him. "Oh. Did I leave them there? That was a long time ago."

"Queenie's mother called me to let me know. I think they're rearranging the place and noticed a foreign pillow on Queenie's bed."

"Huh." I say, my interest sparking. "I wonder why they're doing that."

"Yeah I bet. You have always been good at trying to find things out even if they have nothing to do with you." Dad smirks at me.

"FYI, dad, Queenie is my friend, so in a way, it is my business on a certain level." I cross my arms, returning the smirk.

"Whatever you say, honey." Dad smiles again as he maneuvers around a corner.

Soon we're driving down the street where Queenie lives, made evident by the series of brick, town-houses. I believe Emma also lives somewhere on this street: the description of her house sounded very similar to Queenie's as all of the townhouses have a uniform look about them: brick structure, deep green-colored roofs with a matching rectangular door; white-framed windows.

Finally, we reach Queenie's town-house, its special trademark being the display of carved-out jack-o-lanterns that decorate the porch.

"So the Parkers are festive." Dad comments. "That doesn't surprise me."

"Nor me." There's a carved banner hanging from the front door reading, "HAPPY HALLOWEEN" in purple, sparkly letters. It makes sense: Queenie is married to glittery merchandise.

"Go get your pillow. I'll wait here." Dad tells me.

"Okay." I open the door on my side that's conveniently at the sidewalk, so I don't have to risk a crossing.

_Maybe I'll get to see Queenie after all_. A seed of hope is growing inside me: warm and strong as I walk up the stairs to the porch and approach the door. It isn't until I'm on the porch do I recognize a cluster of plants gathered at the bottom right corner of the door. They're all tall and green, framed by large, wavy leaves at every inch. _Pretty,_ I think. I hover over them and get a closer look. _Morning glories._ I can see white little buds blooming shyly in the light. There's one plant in the middle of the bunch that's in full-bloom even though it's a little wilted. Cautiously I stick my finger out to touch it...

"Vivian! You're there to get your pillow back!"

I leap up at the sound of my father's voice and nod at myself. _Stop being creepy_. _You haven't even knocked on the door yet!_

The door is opened for me anyway, and for a brief moment my heart soars as I see a curly-haired girl on the other side, then crashes down; this is her sister. If it weren't for her taller, curvier stature, I'd think Queenie was a twin. This Parker sister, however, is also distinguished by her darker, more slanted eyes than Queenie's.

"Hi." I say immediately. "Sorry. I got a little distracted on the porch-"

"Oh! Are you Vivian?" She flashes me the pearls in her mouth. "I'm Diane! Queenie's older sister. My momma said you'd be over!"

I smile. "Yep. I'm here."

"Omigod! You're so cute!" Diane squeals. "I got a description from Queenie that you were little, but I didn't think this little! You're like a little doll! You're here for your pillow, right? Come in!" She steps a side.

"Thank you." I say, doing as she wishes. _Well you can tell that they're related._

The sight of their place has become a second home to me. I almost know the layout by heart: the living area to the left of the main entrance; the dining area a little ways back to the right; the kitchen area straight ahead; and the stairs almost at the immediate right.

"Come and sit down on the sofa." Diane invites.

I follow her over to the baby blue and white polka-dot couch, facing opposite of the door, and plant myself on the right cushion.

"Just wait here a few seconds while I get your pillow from Queenie's room." She tells me.

I nod. "Thanks. I have my dad waiting for me out front."

"Okay." The elder Queenie stands up. "I'm going to let Queenie know."

"Wait, Queenie is here?" I ask, standing up as well. "Do you mind if I go with you? I haven't seen her all day. Is she busy?"

Diane looks startled, widening her eyes. "Uh, yeah you could say that." She answers. Her face returns to perky again, almost if I was imagining her weird reaction to my request to tag along.

I shake it off. "No problem. If she's busy I could just wait here."

Diane nods. "I hate to be rude, but she's in the middle of a private matter at the moment."

"What?" _And she didn't tell me?_ "Queenie knows me well enough to trust me."

"I know. Just..." Diane breaks her gaze. "She's a little embarrassed about her situation right now. You understand right?"

"Yeah..." _She's not making any sense._

Diane smiles again. "Good. I'll be right back, okay?" She walks off briskly, almost as if she's running away before I can ask her anymore questions.

I sit back down on the couch, confused. _I know I just met her sister today, but she's definitely acting jittery for a particular reason._ I think to myself. _What does she mean by Queenie being 'too busy'?_

_Shut up, you nosy girl!_ I have an internal war with my conscious._ What's it matter to you? Your friend is probably dropping one in the toilet! But why would her sister act all weird about something as common as that?_ I counter my own thought. _Wouldn't she have just said that Queenie was in the bathroom?_

I lean back on the couch. Sure Queenie has every right to keep a secret from me, but she usually isn't one to do so. Whatever she's doing, her sister is covering it up for her. Now that I'm positive that Queenie is hiding something from me, the real debate is whether or not I should investigate further.

_Don't even think about it_. I know the logical, morally correct answer, but...I can't help but put this together now. Come on: I'm her friend. There's no need for her to hide anything from me.

Quietly I get up from the couch and, taking the softest steps possible, climb the stairs up to the next level. I glance over to the left of the stairs: Queenie's room is over there, and probably Queenie herself.

_What's going on with you?_ I still tread softly upon approaching her room, the door closed. _Is her sister inside as well?_ It makes sense considering she went to retrieve the pillow that I left inside. What's stalling her?

I'm ten feet away when I hear voices talking.

"You really need to leave before someone sees you. She's downstairs, you know."

That's Diane's voice. _That's what you think._

"And hurry up! My mom doesn't know you're here either." That's definitely Queenie.

_What the hell...?_

The next voice is the most distinct of them all; the one that lodges my heart in my throat and freezes me to the spot.

"Alright. I'm going."

It's a guy's voice. And not just any guy.

It's the sound of a Jay.

_No way..._ I try my hardest to back away towards the stairwell, but I can't move.

"Please tell me you didn't have her pillow on the bed while you two were..." I tune out the rest of what Diane says. _No, no, no, no, no._

"Please, I put her pillow on top of the trunk!" Queenie shrieks.

The entire place is spinning around me. I put my hands on either side of my head. My knees wobble. The concussion takes its toll on me and knocks me to the ground. A thud fills the air around me.

"What was that?" I hear Jay ask.

Swiftly the door opens by Diane, and her eyes widen at the sight of me. "Vivian!" She says. "I was on my way downstairs."

I climb to my feet and barge into the room, swerving around Diane.

The sight in front of me is enough to make me wretch. Queenie is sitting under the covers in just a bra, staring back at me with a gaze of pure shock. Jay himself is beside the bed, without his cap, frozen to the spot with the same expression as Queenie's, and in the process of putting on his jeans. He isn't wearing a shirt either.

"Vivian." Queenie says. "Listen to me-"

"I'm just here for my pillow." I don't recognize the sound of my voice. It's robotic and high-pitched. I don't move my gaze from her as I grab my pillow. "My dad's waiting in the car. Sorry I interrupted."

And then I turn and walk away as fast as I can. I ignore both Queenie and Diane calling after me while I run down the stairs and out of the front door.

I leap down the stairs of the front porch and open the passenger door to dad's minivan.

"What kept you?" Dad asks me.

I slam the door. "Nothing. Let's just go."

"You alright?"

"Can we please just go home?" I look at him, tears welling up my vision.

He just stares back at me, then he finally starts the engine.

Dad plays an upbeat song on the radio, but it only makes me feel worse. I just stare out of my window and let the tears fall from my eyes.


	18. Cocealment

**XVIII. Concealment**

* * *

_"...she has the right to keep things hidden from me just like I keep things hidden from her-and the rest of the world."-Rick _

* * *

"Vivian, this is getting old. Tell me what happened." My father has slowly become irritated with my stubborn silence. _Like father like daughter I suppose._ I think to myself.

"No, thanks." I reply, going up the stairs to my bedroom.

"You don't want to talk to your only parent?"

I freeze halfway up.

"I'm not your mother, Vivian, but I care just as much as she does-or did."

Slowly I turn around. For a few seconds I give my father a long look before I reply. "I know, daddy. It's just that you NEVER talk about her. You never mention the fact that she used to be here and how she kept the place alive while everyone was at work and school."

"I know." Dad approaches the stairs. "I haven't been as caring as I ought to have been these past couple of years. Remember she was just as important to me as she was to you."

"Yes, she _is_ important to me." I fold my arms.

"She isn't here anymore." Dad says. "And she never will be. As cruel as it sounds, it's true, dear. I'm just trying to move on with our lives, not bury the memories of your mother."

"You never talk about how she died!" I raise my voice, fighting to keep the tears from surfacing.

"Her death took us all by shock, but-"

"I've had nightmares about it!" I blurt out, then quickly cover my mouth.

A glare slowly forms on his face. "What did you just say?" He begins to escalate the stairs. His tone is hardened yet calm.

I regain composure. "I said I've had nightmares about mom's death." I match my father's voice.

"For how long?" Dad moves closer."How long have you been having these dreams and haven't told me about it?"

I turn and clear the rest of the stairs.

"Vivian. I asked you a question." Dad follows me to the top of the stairs. "How long?"

"I don't want to talk about it." I turn around, crossing my arms again.

"Fine. You can talk to a counselor instead." Dad says. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

I can feel myself boiling. "Dad, I don't need a counselor!" I shout.

"I see." He remarks calmly. "You've got everything under control."

"STOP being sarcastic with me!" I grit my teeth. "You treat me like I'm some mental patient in an asylum, and you wonder why I never want to talk to you? You're a horrible parent without mom beside you!"

I storm into my room and slam the door shut. Dad calls after me once, but falls silent. Somehow that brings back the tears; full-on, long-anticipated, hot, fat tears.

Immediately I land on the pillow that I got from Queenie's house and hurl it on the floor. That pillow will always be a reminder of the disgusting sight that was laid in front of me. Instead I bury my face on my mattress and weep. _Why would dad even think about sending me back to a therapist? Would they recommend me taking pills? I don't want to be on medication!_

I lie face up on my bed and let the tears fall down to my ears. _And Queenie! How COULD she do that to me after what I had told her? I trusted her with that information, and she does this? What type of friend is she?_

I flip back over and sob again. She's the one I would find comfort in. She replaced my old friends from Chicago. _Both she and Ivory. Now I don't have anyone to talk to. I lost _both_ of my friends._

_Have you forgotten about one?_ With a jolt I jerk my head up. _He wouldn't do something like that to you. He'd listen to you._

This time I rest my chin against my pillows. As comforting as talking to Rick sounds, I'm not in any mood to talk to anybody. At this point in time I could stand to be alone. Everyone else has let me down. _Why does my life have to be so crappy?_ My lip quivers and I sob again. Eventually I land into a light slumber after my strength ebbs away.

* * *

_"You've been smoking a LOT lately."_

_It's the sound of a walking know-it-all. A voice of a chipmunk's though not so high-pitched: it's an eleven-year-old me._

_"Yes, and it's no business of a little girl's." Mom argues back with me._

_I sigh. "You know your lungs could get all black and disgusting right? You could have really nasty yellow teeth as well. Why do you do it?"_

_"Because she's tired of you."_

_I turn around and find my fifteen year old brother standing behind me. _

_"Oh really?" I put my hands on my hips. "I'm positive she's more fed up with your random scientific facts that aren't important to anyone whatsoever!"_

_"Stop, the two of you!" Mom snaps. "At least pretend to like each other around me."_

_"Oh I like Vivian just fine." Vince says. "She's the one who's annoyed by my technicalities."_

_"Baby." I taunt._

_"Ehh-Hmmm." Mom obnoxiously clears her throat._

_"Sorry." I say._

_I've found her like this almost every time I come home from school. She's in the living room with the T.V. on; sitting in the large blue chair; and she has a cigarette in her mouth. When I'm in my room doing homework, I can hear her and dad screaming at each other about it._

_"You want anything out of the kitchen, mom? Some water? Soda?" Vince asks her.  
_

_"Get me that last can of Coke from the fridge." She replies._

_"Ah, I was hoping you wouldn't want that." Vince moans as he leaves the room._

_"You." Mom looks directly at me. _

_I walk over. "Yeah? Did I forget to do something?"_

_She shrugs. "I...don't know. Did you?"_

_"Huh? Usually you're on top of that." I rest my arms on the armrest of her chair._

_"You're right. I just haven't been feeling well."_

_"Were you turned away from another job?"_

_"You could say that." She replies._

_"Well how else would you say it? Anyway, did you want me for something?"_

_Mom flicks out her cigarette. "Nothing in particular." She runs her hand through my braided ponytail._

_"Why didn't you get this job, mom?"_

_She shrugs. "Same reason as the others: I wasn't what they were looking for."_

_"Their loss."_

_She nods. "Yeah. Their loss." She wraps an arm around my waist. "Did you finish your essay?"  
_

_"I'm on my last paragraph. Wanna read it?"_

_"Not now, sweetie."_

_"You always look over them."_

_Mom smiles up at me. "I know it's already a great essay." She brings my hand close and kisses it._

_"Well could you read it for me? I like it better when you do it than Vince. He's way too serious about-"_

_As I take back my hand, I realize it's covered in dark blood. Gasping, I look over at mom. She's slumped down in her chair with blood flowing from a gash in her throat._

_ I leap over the seat, straddling my own mother, and cover the wound in the center of her throat. It takes all of my strength to clog the flow of blood, but even this isn't enough. Blood spills everywhere, drenching my hands and covering the blue chair in dark, blood-streaked stains. The red substance covers the floor and spreads around my feet._

_"Vince!" I cry. "Help!"_

_No one comes from the kitchen; I slip in the puddle of blood forming around my socks and land on my bottom splashing right into the pool, releasing the grip around my mother's throat. Blood surges over her body and onto the floor. I watch in horror as she slowly becomes blanketed in a red gown._

* * *

I sit up on my bed with sweat soaking my forehead and my breathing rapid. _Another nightmare,_ I think. Impulsively I look down at my hands: they're perfectly dry-and shaky.

Before the gore entered the dream, it was a flashback of my mom and my brother one afternoon. I slowly watched her transform: she had gotten really lousy with housework in the late years following her death. I shudder at the memories. It makes sense since there was blood involved...

_No don't go there!_ I squeeze my eyes shut. _Think of something else!_

My eyes snap open. _The trunk! Surely we have it here?  
_

I hop off of the bed and take off my sneakers. _Where should I look first? Attic or basement?_

I leap at the sound of my cell phone ringing. I look down at the number. Do I know this person? They have the same area code.

I answer it. "Hello?"

"Vivian? Hi. It's Rick."

"Oh!" I can feel my hear beat accelerate. "Hi. Are you okay? I didn't see you at school today."

"I'm fine. I just needed to do some private business with my family." Rick answers.

"Oh, okay. It's good to hear that you weren't sick." I reply.

"Nope. Now I'm going to ask: are _you_ okay? You sound troubled." Rick's voice is warm and soothing on the other end.

"No, no! I'm fine." I answer immediately.

"I find that hard to believe."

"How so?" I lie down on the bed. "I'm great. Honest."

"So you keep telling me." He remarks. "Do you want me to come over?"

This sends a wave of shock through my body. "What?"

"I want to see you." He replies. "I've been wanting to all day. I missed you."

My cheeks are on fire. "Well...I-I don't know if my father would like company at..." I look over at my alarm clock on my bedside desk. It's a quarter until four. What am I saying? "Um...okay."

"You don't sound so sure. It's okay if you don't want me to."

"No, I do!" I say. "I'm sorry. I'm just..."

"Troubled." Rick finishes. "It's okay to tell me, you know."

I stifle a moan. This boy won't let up! _Well isn't he your friend? One of the few friends you still have?_ I swallow the lump in my throat to suppress the next surge of tears. _Will I ever get past what Queenie did?_ I told her all about what Jay tried to do to me, and _she_ does it with _him?_ I bite my lip. I can_not_ cry on the phone!

"Vivian?" Rick says. "Do you want me to come over now?"

"Sorry." I say. "Yeah. That's fine."

"Okay." He replies. "I'll see you soon?"

"You bet."

"Good. Bye."

"Bye." I hang up the phone, not bothering to prevent the small smile forming on my face. He knows me pretty darn well to tell that I'm upset, or maybe I'm just so obvious about everything I'm feeling. Whatever the reason, I'm grateful for him and the many times he has helped me out this year.

_Almost as if the person he was before was just an evil twin._

* * *

**Rick's P.O.V.**

What is she hiding from me?

I run a shaky hand through my hair. _Why would she ever hide anything from me? I'm her friend right? What's wrong with her?_

_I can't be this way!_ I shake my head. _I can't afford to act this way with my standing reputation; I can't think like this._

But paranoia is slowly gripping me. The same paranoia that drove me to jealousy, which turned to rage, which then caused me to strike Terri.

_You have nothing to worry about. You didn't have anything to worry about last year either._

I remind myself that I'm not even her boyfriend. I don't have her in that way, so there's no reason to panic about what she's covering from me. Even if we _were_ a couple, I would force myself to behave normally; force myself to hold composure, so I would never lay a hand on her. After all: she has the right to keep things hidden from me just like I keep things hidden from her-and the rest of the world.

I put my phone in my pocket and walk over to the refrigerator in the kitchen of my home. I find a carton of milk and drink out of it. There's so much I've tried to do these past twenty-four hours I haven't seen her: work on homework; study for Whack-Your-Brain; help my mother with chores around the house. Nothing worked!

Vivian, along with Toby, is one of my few closest friends I have at Degrassi. In fact, they're the only two friends I really have. Sure there's Emma, and I think she's fantastic: she's strong-willed and extremely intelligent; Queenie hasn't changed at all from last year although we tolerate each other better than before. Then there are some who are acquaintances like Heather Sinclair, who's also on the Whack-Your-Brain team (though she almost never shows up to study sessions).

I really don't have anyone else than the few people I named. I haven't seen the Darcy girl since she kissed me during the game Toby and I played last week. It's really a shame: I thought she was a cute niner.

Therefore, my point being made, I don't like the thought of Vivian keeping things from me. She's not mine in that way, but the night before is a permanent video in my mind. Even when I was in past relationships with Ivory and Terri, I had never cuddled with someone the way I did with Vivian, and yet she's not even my girlfriend. I still have that connection with her, and able to obtain it without moving our relationship to the next level.

I need to stop thinking about this. I can just drive over to her house in the new, but old, car I just received from my dad. I walk over to the counter by the sink to set down the now empty carton of milk when I spot a note taped down:

_Richard,_

_Come to my office. There's something important I need to tell you and your mother._

_-Dad_

I roll my eyes at the "Dad" signature. When has he ever liked to be referred to as dad? I don't think this was here before, so I'll drop by before I drive over to Vivian's place. I wonder if her brother will be back anytime soon? I think he'd make a good friend regardless of the many years between us. I think of the last time I played cards with him, Vivian's father, and Queenie as I walk out of the kitchen and head to dad's office, which is right next to the bathroom.

"Father?" I knock on the door to his office.

"Come in." He replies on the other side. "Your mother is already here."

I obey and open the door to his sanctuary; the place where he spends his time when he's ever at home. Everything is in perfect order: the red cherry wood desk is aligned perfectly in the center directly across from the entrance. His huge, black office chair is tucked away snugly behind it; the computer on his desk is situated at a perfect angle whenever he turns his chair to the left; bookshelves of the same cherry wood material border either walls facing the desk. Everything is symmetrical in the room. Mother and father are both near the oddest piece of furniture to sit within an office: his wardrobe behind the desk. Mostly he keeps his best suit jackets tucked away inside, but still, I think it gives the room a weird touch. Then again, it's not like father isn't quirky, nor I for that matter.

Father motions for me to walk over with a tilt of his head in his direction. "The information I'm going to tell you is extremely confidential and should not leave the walls of this room whatsoever. Richard, I wanted to wait for the right time to tell you this; for a time I knew you were at an age that's not only mature enough to handle this information, but also trustworthy enough that you can be counted on to think and act rationally."

I squint. "What's so important that you want me to know now?"

In reply, father unlatches the cherry wardrobe and opens the double doors, each of them giving a loud squeak as if they hadn't been opened in a hundred years. He reaches up on the very top shelf and pulls down a large, box-like case made of the same material as the wardrobe. He sets it down on the desk carefully almost as if there's a bomb inside. Mother crosses her arms beside me, the only gesture she's made this entire time that reminds me she's here.

"Richard." Father rests his hand over the lid of the box. "This is extremely important. Do not, do NOT use this unless your life is in grave danger and you absolutely have to."

_Oh. So that means inside..._

He lifts open the lid, and inside gleams a silver hand gun resting on its black cushioned bed. I take a long look at it. The thought of father having a gun doesn't phase me in the least, especially considering how tough he was trying to raise me, including our "bonding" moments.

"Now you understand why I forbid you to enter my office these past few years." Father replies.

_Yeah. I have the scars on my upper arms to remind me._

"I didn't want you to get your grimy little hands on this for obvious reasons." Dad continues. "Your mother knew about this as well although she couldn't be more rooted against me on my decision to keep a firearm in our home." He looks over at her and sighs. "But listen to me, Richard: I don't expect for this to leave its resting place unless you are in a very dire situation. Is that clear?"

I nod. "Absolutely."

"Good." Father closes the lid. "You can leave now. Do whatever you want just be back before nine 'o clock."

"Alright then." I say. "I was going to go pick up a friend of mine's."

"It wouldn't happen to be Vivian, would it?"

Slowly I nod. "Yes it is."

"Don't get into mischief this time."

"Oh stop it, Adam." Mother says.

This gets a chuckle out of my father, and I grit my teeth to conceal the rage on my face. "Okay, okay. Have fun, and remember what I said about that gun."

"I won't forget." I turn and walk out of the room.

As I make my way outside to the car, I can't help but think about the reason why anyone in this house would ever use a gun; even my own father. Mother would never be seen with one: she despises them way too much. Even with the torture I receive from other students, I could never see myself using a gun as my only defense mechanism.

_Me? Firing a gun?_ I climb into the driver's seat of my own car.

_Why would I ever do that? _


	19. What She Doesn't Know

_**Howdy, folks! Minor Warning here: "the birds and the bees" is mentioned more bluntly in this chapter; however, there's NO detailed descriptions whatsoever! This is only rated "T", and I believe that the way I have suggested the "s" word is suitable for teens as young as 13. I'm sure you readers are mature anyway, so enjoy! Thanks for your reading and your patience!**_

**XIX. What She Doesn't Know**

* * *

_"Telling her about something that's just as traumatic..."_

* * *

This can't be happening to me.

This _can't_ be happening to me.

How can I go back to school now? How can I face any of my friends? My best friend? _I didn't mean for her to see._ I bury my face in my hands. _Now she's probably heartbroken._

"Come on: don't tell me you're type that cries afterward." The annoying Jason says as he drapes his shirt over his head. "Or are you upset about Vivian?"

"Jay, shut up." I retort bitterly.

"What?" Jay says. "Don't be a bitch to me. Come on: let me take you to my place now."

"No thanks." I reply as I reach for my pink V-neck beside the bed.

"What's wrong with you? So what: the little princess walked in on us. What's she going to do now? Run home and cry?"

I grit my teeth in aggravation. Already I regret this decision. "Just leave, Jay. You don't have a reason for staying here any longer."

Jay scoffs. "And I thought I was the hit it and quit it type."

"What? Don't get any action from Alex?" I smirk at him for the first time since we enjoyed ourselves.

"Hey. You shut up about Alex." Jay's voice hardens, yet it warms my heart: there's someone he cares about even though he chose to mess around with me. He'd never break up with Alex. Not that I care. A romance with Jay is a concept too foreign to grasp.

"That's someone you don't get to talk about." Jay glares at me with his piercing blue eyes.

Now my anger rises. "I say whatever the fuck I want in_ my_ house." I stand up in only my shirt. "You don't like it, get out."

"Oh I'm going." Jay takes his jacket and hurries out of the room. I listen to his footsteps clamber down the stairs and listen to the sound of the door close before I groan and fall back on my bed.

Diane enters the room. "What the hell was that all about?" She crosses her arms. "It's perfectly normal to mess around-so as long as you protect yourself-but Jay? Of all people? _Any_ body could have been a better alternative. I just hear dirty stories about him and his...let's call it hygiene."

"Diane, it's okay to use the word 'sex' around me. I mean it's not like I just _did_ it or anything." I roll my eyes.

"Man, you're a smartass."

"I love you too, Diane."

My sister moves onto the bed. "Seriously, though." She says. "Why? Isn't he seeing Alex?"

"He is." I reply with a straight face.

"So why on earth would you sleep with him?"

I close my eyes. How do I explain this without giving anything away? "I...just needed to, okay? I blew up on Vivian a couple days ago, and we hadn't talked to each other since..."

"So you decided to hook up with the Canadian Slim Shady to relieve yourself?" Diane arches an eyebrow. "I hope you know that, from where I stand, this doesn't make a lick of sense." She pushes back loose curls from her face. "And why the hell was Vivian so disturbed by the sight of you two? The way she flew out of here, it was like she never walked in on someone having sex." She pauses. "No wait: guilt was written all over your face when you looked at her. What were you so guilty about? It's not like it was Alex who caught you."

"I don't want to talk about it anymore." I reply.

"Queenie..."

"What? Soon none of this is going to matter anymore!" I snap.

My sister frowns at me, her dark, glossy eyes telling me that she's hurt by my remark. "That's your motto for every reckless thing you do." She says quietly.

"Well, isn't it true?" I say. My heart begins to pound as I think of the near future.

"For you, anyway." Diane sighs. "I bet you haven't talked to Vivian yet, have you?"

"How can I?" I can feel tears filling my eyes. "She's already going through a lot: she's still getting over her mother's death!"

"Oh." Diane says.

"Telling her about something that's just as traumatic..."

"Would you rather her find out for herself? Would that be healthy for Vivian? Your friend?" Diane asks.

"I've got to be the world's most horrible friend right now." A single tear slides down my cheek.

"I know it'll be hard for the both of you, but you really need to do this soon." My sister tells me. "It's a lot better than keeping this silent." She reaches over and wipes the tear from my eye.

"It's so weird when you act affectionate." I say.

"Love you too, Queenie." Diane rises from the bed. "You really should put some pants on." She walks out of my room and closes the door behind her.

I stare at the door, the weight of my heart gluing me to the spot. The last thing I want to do is keep my sister in the dark about Jay, but I promised Vivian I wouldn't say anything about Jay and the park. If I had admitted that Vivian was upset about me being with Jay, she would've asked more questions.

Vivian doesn't know why I did this, but I did it for her. She won't understand that until she goes back to school tomorrow.

_Trust me, Vivian. I would never do something like this to hurt you on purpose. You know that._

I lie back down on the bed with new tears in my eyes. Even though there's a good chance that I lost my best friend, it was worth it; not because I had my moment with Jay, but because of the consequences that will follow.

I just need to get people talking about this. People like gossip-especially high school students. That's what I want.

An image of Vivian crying suddenly enters my mind, similar to the time she broke down in the library a couple weeks ago. I briskly shake it away.

_Everything will become clear soon, Vivian_. I think as if my best friend can hear my thoughts.

_I promise.*_

* * *

**Hmm...what does Queenie have to hide?**


	20. When Things Fall Apart

**XX. When Things Fall Apart**

* * *

_To my patient readers: thank you for your support in this story. I hit a major hardship in my life, most of which came from my studies. It made writing this chapter difficult, but I finally completed it! Thanks for sticking around! I hope you enjoy it! :)_

* * *

I told Rick not to come in until I knew that dad was gone.

He had to leave due to his job, and that always occupies his time. When Rick called me on my cell phone, he assured me that my dad wouldn't recognize his new car; a standard, deep green five-person vehicle. "It's completely different from the granite mini-van my mother owns." He told me over the phone.

"Good." I replied.

Immediately after I ended the conversation with Rick, dad came into my room. "Unfortunately I'll be gone for a few hours. Do you want to call a friend to keep you company while I'm away?"

"Taken care of." I reply.

"Okay." He says curtly. "See you later, dear." He walks away, leaving the door to my bedroom open.

"Bye." I call after him. I don't know if he'll even acknowledge our little feud we had earlier. _Good. I don't want to either._

As I listen to the front door downstairs open and close, I dial Rick again.

"Hello?"

"My dad's leaving." I look out of the window in my bedroom, which gives me a view of the front yard. Dad's climbing into the driver seat of the mini-van that he decided to park outside of the garage. _Guess he knew he had to go someplace else._

"Okay. I'm just around the corner." He replies.

"See you in a few." I say and shut my phone closed. I walk over to my mirror and check over myself: white skirt with red tights and a matching sweater. I have my dark hair parted on my left side and have it neatly swept over my shoulders. _Should I put on eyeliner? _I think to myself. _Why? It's only Rick. He's seen you at your best and your worst_. I shake my head. I decide to do it anyway just to practice the craft of putting on the right amount. Occasionally I looked at my mom when she used to spend time in the mirror. She never coated her face in makeup, but she still painted herself thoroughly, and dad would always yell from a distance "You don't need that damn junk on your face!" I chuckle at the memory.

As soon as I border my eyes with black, bringing out the brown in my eyes, the doorbell rings. Heart leaping, I grab my backpack and hurry down the stairs. I slowly approach the front door and stand on my toes to look through the peep hole. I get a glimpse of Rick gazing at the house. My stomach knots. He's actually here. I haven't seen him since my dad whisked me away from his bed the other night. I swallow, exhale and finally open the door.

He stands for a few seconds smiling at me, wearing his standard gray jacket over his black and white checked button down. His shoulder-length hair is tousled by the wind. "Hi." He says. "It's good to see you." He moves in with open arms, and I willingly embrace him. I feel tingles crawling down my spine as I let Rick envelope me in his warmth. One of his hands rubs my back in circles.

Finally I step back. "Wanna come in?" I step a side.

"Of course." I watch as Rick steps into the house, and I close the door after him. He walks into the family area and sits down on the couch. "I hope you don't mind." He smiles at me.

"You're always welcome here." I can't stop myself from smiling. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"No, no. All I want is to talk to you." He pats the space next to him. "Join me?"

"Sure." I sit in the space he indicated. "Why weren't you in school today?"

"I, um, had some business to take care of." Rick leans forward resting his elbows on his legs. "It's complicated."

"I know complicated, Rick." I say.

"I know you do. Now why don't you tell me what's hurting you."

I freeze as I look at Rick. "What?" The word barely leaves my lips.

"I know something's wrong, Vivian." Rick's voice deepens. "Over the phone it's easy to notice emotions in just the tone of one's voice."

"How?" I say. "What did I ask you that gave you any hint that something might have been bothering me?"

"It's not what you asked," Rick answers, "but how you asked it."

"Fine: I'll give you that one." I reply. "Still I don't think I sounded..."

"Vivian," Rick sits up and reaches for one of my hands, "Remember that time when you cried about your mother, or how about the time you were sitting outside Ms. Sauve's office? You didn't tell me anything then, and you still haven't now."

I glare back at him.

"Th-this will stay between you and me. I promise." Rick touches my shoulder with his other hand. "Please talk to me." He strokes my fingers with his thumb.

I briskly shake my head. "I can't."

"Yes you can." Rick scoots closer. "You can tell your friend."

My heart pounds. "It's like what you said." My voice pitch heightens. "It's complicated. I don't know how I can explain this."

"Just try, okay?" Rick leans in, and I gasp softly as he gently presses his lips against my forehead in a long, warm kiss.

"Please, Rick, don't..."

"What's wrong? Is it that I kissed you?" Rick says to me. "I'm sorry."

"No. I mean...I don't know what I'm saying..." I look away. _Suddenly I can't talk to Rick? When did this happen?_

"I feel like I'm making you uncomfortable." I look back at Rick when he speaks. "Would you rather I leave? "

This must be a record for how many times I've cried today. Tears well up again. "No. I wanted you to come. I just...I don't know if you'll look at me the same after I tell you this." A tear streams down my cheek.

"What is it?" Rick holds both of my shoulders. "I hate seeing you upset. Tell me what's wrong." His voice is soft and gentle.

I wipe the tear away. "I saw Queenie today, and she was...with Jay."

Rick squints. "What?"

"Yeah." I reply. "It probably wouldn't have bothered me as much if that whole thing out in the park wouldn't have happened."

"What happened that day?"

I draw in a breath. "Promise you won't tell anyone else this?"

"I won't tell a soul." Rick lays his hand on mine.

I look at him. He did tell me about Terri, and that was none of my business. Now I'll open up to him.

"When I asked for my locket back, Jay wanted me to..." I hesitate, "...to have sex with him."

Rick widens his eyes slightly through his glare. He opens his mouth to speak, but words don't leave his mouth. "Did you want to?"

"No." I respond immediately.

"He raped you?" Rick's voice softens into a husky whisper. He's almost ghost pale in the face.

"No no! He tried to though. He...started kissing me and groping me, and..." I hesitate again.

"What else did he do to you?" Rick presses.

"He...well, for a moment I kind of let him do it so I could catch him off guard. It worked: I slapped him away and was able to get my locket back."

I whip out the locket from under my shirt. "Then he started to act aggressive and was trying to force himself on me, but I was able to get away before he could take any of my clothes off." I wonder if Rick can hear my heart beating inside my chest.

He stares at me with a heavy, sorrowful gaze. "You had been hiding this from me all this time and never mentioned a word of it?"

"I hate talking about it." Briskly I blink away any tears threatening to fall. "The whole thing with Jay is so _stupid_, but it's been such a bother having to worry about him harassing me."

"I had no idea that was happening to you." Rick scoots closer, basically repeating himself from before. "None. I don't like the way Jay treats you, me or anyone he runs into. He needs to be stopped." His voice lowers to a darker tone.

I've been looking downward until Rick's last statement, and I hold my head up to see him scowling. "What do you mean by that?" I don't hide my suspicion.

"Nothing." He responds immediately.

"Rick, don't lie to me." I harden my voice.

Rick flinches upon this, then sighs. "Sorry. I'm just-someone needs to show him that he doesn't have power like he thinks he does."

"First off, Jay doesn't have power over _anyone_, no matter how bad-ass he likes to think he is," I argue, "and second, I'm just flustered by how difficult it is to fend him off being that we're both smaller than he is." I sigh. "If I were his size, he would be nothing more than a nick in my side, but he's a little more intimidating when you're under five feet."

Rick chuckles. "You're right. Well, on your behalf that is; I feel like I could fight him with much more ease than you."

"Like the way you have been recently, right?" I cross my arms.

Rick's face falls. It's like I slapped him across his face.

I burst out laughing. "Rick, Rick, I was joking! Relax." I playfully slap his arm. "You're so serious all the time."

A wide-mouthed Rick smiles back. "Ah, I beg to differ. I can be rather mischievous when the time calls for it."

"That'll be the day." I smirk.

"Would it?" He returns the smirk.

"It would. It's been way too hard on you at Degrassi for you to-"

"Wait. Hold still." Rick holds his hand out, and his gaze is focused on a sight above me.

"Huh? What?" I squint at him.

Rick leans in closer. "I think there's a spider in your hair."

"_AHHHH_!" In an instant I leap into the air screeching and scrub at my hair with both hands. I bend over in order for the spider to fall out. That's when I hear a sound of muffled laughter coming from Rick and lift my head up slowly. By the time I'm standing up straight he falls over on the couch and releases his laugh full force.

At first I stare in wonder: his laugh comes out high-pitched and quick, almost like Mickey Mouse's voice, as it fills the air around us. It's the first time I've ever heard Rick laugh hysterically. Ever. He takes off his glasses and covers his face with his hands in an attempt to hold composure miserably. I stare in awe for a few more seconds, then remember the reason why he's laughing.

"You jerk!" I reach for a pillow on the couch and hurl it at him. It hits him in the stomach, and he sits up abruptly, a mock expression of surprise on his face.

"That was very violent for you, Vivian." He says in a cool tone, staring at me with a vacant expression.

"Well I didn't find that stunt you pulled very funny." I stick my tongue out at him. "I guess we're even now, huh?"

"I don't think so." Before I can react, Rick lunges at me, grabbing me by the waist, and then I shriek as he pushes me down onto the couch on my back. To my astonishment, he moves on top of me-straddling me, before he starts to tickle me.

"Stoppit!" I chuckle, squirming underneath him as his fingers move across my body.

"What was that?" Rick teases, crawling his fingers up and down my sides.

I giggle uncontrollably. "Rick!" He tickles me under my chin, and I laugh loudly. Rick laughs as well. I grab his arms and try to push him back, but his fingers still glide on my body, and he tickles the bends in my legs, then moves up to my thighs. I let out a shriek in the middle of laughing.

"You're so cute." Rick muses. I reach for his hands, but he dodges every time, finding a new spot to tickle me. "You're going to have to do better than that to stop me."

"C'mon! Quit it!" I cry while laughing.

"Hmm, where are you most ticklish?" Rick ignores my cry and proceeds with his task, this time around my shoulders. "You won't be nearly as squeamish with this sweater you're wearing. But if I do this..." Gradually one of his hands crawls under the hem of my shirt.

This new gesture-his fingers on my bare skin-sends shock waves to my brain. I gasp instead of giggle and widen my eyes at Rick. He slowly loses his grin as he concentrates on his hand that's now resting on my lower belly: a warm and gentle, but unexpected. I flinch as he moves it slowly over my stomach in a vertical motion. He presses down softly with his fingers while running them rhythmically over the surface of my skin. At this moment I shift uncomfortably underneath him.

"Don't move away." He says softly as he presses more of his weight on me. He continues to massage my belly and glides his hand further up my sweater. I find myself petrified as he proceeds. My heart flutters violently as he moves dreadfully close to my breasts. And it just so happens that I'm not wearing a bra. What are the odds of this? I try and reach for one of his hands, but Rick grabs it with his own hand and moves his other around to my back, causing me to wiggle. "Please don't." He caresses a section of my skin that would have been otherwise covered by my bra.

_Why is he being so touchy?_ As Rick's thumb moves underneath my left breast, I gasp again. I don't recognize the sound as my own voice. "Rick, you're way too close..." Goosebumps prickle across my skin, and I shiver a little. "Rick, stop." I reach for his hands again. This isn't the person I met a month ago.

I feel a shift in Rick's weight on top of me, and when I look up at him, I see that his face is directly above mine. His brown eyes are shiny and powerful as he looks down at me. He places his other hand on the side of my face, his movements slow and steady.

"Rick," I say timidly, "what are you doing?"

"I don't know." He replies, matching the volume of my voice. "I'm... sorry. I should have asked you if it was okay for me to touch you like this."

Now_ he's concerned._ "I-it's alright." I say robotically, my voice raised a pitch.

Rick slowly comes in close and softly kisses my forehead. That wasn't a response I was expecting. I can't breathe.

"I didn't mean for this to happen." He sighs.

"Didn't mean... for what to happen?"

"I-I'm falling for you, Vivian." Rick answers. "I was only trying to prove everyone wrong coming back to Degrassi. I didn't expect to be treated so badly. I especially didn't expect anyone would have such compassion to be friends with me, like you, Emma and Toby have. But I can't help how much I like you. This was never a part of the plan. I'm sorry, Vivian. I can't help what I'm feeling. ..." The way he's staring at me, and so intensely...why can't I place an adjective on his expression? His brown eyes are boring into me. I watch as he glances over my entire body.

_Why is he staring at me like that? And did he just confess to crushing on me?_ Only a few minutes ago I would have been over the moon; out of my head that Rick would say something even remotely close to this, but now, looking up at him, being straddled by him...

"I have to keep you."

Suddenly the right word comes to mind: _Hunger_. Then synonyms: _Desire_, _craving._ The words are condensed as I look into Rick's eyes. I can see them all floating around in his dark eyes.

"I have to keep you, Vivian." He repeats the phrase, and I shiver. I try shifting myself, but Rick's weight is pressed against me so tightly that I barely succeed. Rick is oblivious. "You're all I have...to prove that I'm not a monster." His face is only a couple inches above mine, and I can feel his breath brushing against my skin.

"Rick, please...could you move from off of me?" I say gently.

I guess he doesn't hear me because the next thing he does confuses the hell out of the me.

He kisses me. On the lips.

It happens so suddenly, but slowly at the same time. His mouth covers mine completely, and he presses his lips gently against mine. Impulsively my eyes close, and I let him continue to venture his mouth over my own. I didn't expect his kiss to feel so...there are so many words to choose from: soft, moist, delicate, warm. I can feel my entire body growing warm as if there's a fireplace burning deep within me. Being as cautious as possible, I kiss him back with the same delicacy and gently wrap my arms around him. I feel Rick's hands returning the gesture, and he shifts us so that we're lying side-by-side on the couch.

Finally I pull away and look at Rick. His eyes are wider, but the same look of hunger remains. "I only asked for you to get off of me." I smile awkwardly.

"Well, didn't I?" Rick holds my face in his hands and kisses me again. "Your lips are so soft." He pauses in between the kiss. This time I flinch because his movements are so quick. He presses a little stronger this time, and moves a bit quicker that it takes me a second to synchronize with him. He then presses me against him; his hands remain on my hips. Suddenly, his right hand begins to move up underneath my sweater again, and I wriggle in response. When this doesn't cause Rick to move away, I reach for his hand with my own, but instead he ignores it and continues to move it further up my sweater.

"Rick." I move out of the kiss. "Don't." I try and move away from him, but his other arm is locked tightly around my waist. My heart begins beating dangerously again.

"It's alright. I promise." Rick brings me back for another kiss on the lips, but his hand keeps going further up my sweater. I try and pull away, but his arm won't give. "Rick, let me go." I say, reaching for his other arm. As I pry his arm loose, however, his other hand succeeds in groping my breast. I shriek. "Stoppit!"

Suddenly Rick releases me as I'm pulling back, and I fall off the couch and hit the floor, landing on my bottom.

"Vivian!" He sits up abruptly. "I'm really sorry, Vivian. I got carried away." He holds his hand out, but I slap it away as I climb to my feet.

All I can do is look at him with a hammering heart in my chest. "What-what's gotten into you?" I back away from the couch. "I kept telling you to stop. Why wouldn't you listen to me?" The goosebumps return, and I'm suddenly imagining myself out in the park with Jay. _How is this the same thing...?_

"Please, Vivian. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to be so persistent, I promise. I just was...caught up in the moment." Rick moves towards me.

I stand up and back away farther. I look at Rick to see him standing too. He appears alarmed and hurt at the same time. _Am I looking at the Rick that Terri knew?_

"Vivian, please believe me." Rick moves closer still. "You're one of the few people who understands me. Don't turn against me."

"Were you even listening to me when I told you what happened between me and Jay?" I say impulsively. My eyes are stinging with tears. "He was did the same thing."

Now I know I hit a nerve: Rick's eyes widen at this. "Are you saying that I'm no different from Jay?" His voice is barely above a whisper.

"No! No, you're different, but...you made the same mistake. You did, and I don't appreciate that." I say.

"And I'm telling you that I'm sorry." Rick reaches for my hands. "I'm not the same person I was before I met you. I can promise you that." He squeezes my hands. "I'm not. I can't have you turn against me too."

"I'm not turning against you, Rick." I move my hands away. "I just don't think we're ready for this right now."

"Of course we are." Rick reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "You're the reason why I come to Degrassi everyday. You're so beautiful and kind and generous, Vivian. I don't wanna lose that."

"You won't lose me I promise." I say. "We don't need to be in a relationship for us to be good friends."

"We can try again." Rick says. "Please."

Inwardly I sigh in irritation. He doesn't get it, sadly. "I'm sorry, Rick, but I don't want us to try again. I just think you need more time, and if you don't think so, then it's me who needs more time. Either way, just not now." My tears come back. "I need you to understand where I'm coming from, Rick. Please?"

Rick stares at me, frowning in despair. I stare at him back even with tears mucking my vision. "Okay, Vivian." He says calmly in a low voice. "I guess I'll leave now." He grabs his messenger bag and turns to head for the door.

"Drive safely." I call after him.

He pauses at the door and turns only half way around to nod. "Will do." He opens the door and shuts it.

I can feel the tension in the air that he left behind, and his final look of devastation is one that I will never forget. _You did what you had to do.  
_

The somber feeling doesn't help the situation though. I just sit there on the couch alone and cry. There's no one left to comfort me. No Queenie, no Rick.


	21. Learning About the Other Sides

**XXI. Learning About the Other Sides**

* * *

_Make an effort to understand. Talk to her._

* * *

I ride to school with my dad feeling completely drowsy. Last night's slumber consisted of weird dream versions of what actually happened between Rick and I that evening. I'm still on edge about the entire thing, even a little paranoid about it. He just moved on his own terms without waiting for me to give him the green light. My experience with Rick would mark the second time a guy has tried to take advantage of me. _How does one handle such stress like this?_ I think as dad pulls in in front of Degrassi.

Dad stops me before I step out of the car. "Love you, peanut. I can't have you stayin' mad at me forever."

"It's not you, dad", I reply although it's not entirely true. "It's just...school."

"What is it?" Dad's eyes widen in concern. "Do you not like it here? Who's bothering you?"

"No one." Total lie. "It's just...there's a lot of drama that I didn't expect to run into here."

"You caught in the middle of it?"

"It's hard to avoid it actually." I sigh.

"This wouldn't happen to be about Rick, would it?" Dad raises an eyebrow.

I sigh mentally. My lies have finally run out. "It's barely getting better, and Rick...I feel bad for jumping to his defense so quickly. I mean, I guess I can see where his flaws are, but still...I can't bring myself to hate him like my classmates do." There: I've expressed the way I feel without giving away the entire story about Rick.

"Think about it this way, Vivian: Queenie, for example, or maybe Renee, your friend from Chicago-whichever she; it doesn't matter-has a boyfriend that beat her to the point of critical condition, and nothing happened to him: no criminal charges, no probation, nothing. Meanwhile your friend's parents have to go through the notions of paying for hospital bills and moving out of the school district all in the efforts to keep their daughter safe from this criminal."

"You're calling Rick a criminal?" I say.

"Hold on. Just let me finsish." Dad inquires. "I'm saying that it's like the victim is paying the price for something her attacker did. While HE has the convenience of returning to the same school after only an expulsion-and only for the remainder of that one year."

I bite my lip in thought.

"Think about that for a minute-as you go to class." Dad reaches over and opens the door on my side. "Would that make you happy as Queenie's best friend?" He kisses my forehead. "We can talk about this later because I'm not going to be the reason why you're late for class. Now go."

"Whatever you say, your majesty." I do a makeshift bow. Once I catch an agitated look from Dad, I burst out laughing. "I'm just kidding!" I chuckle. "Of course I'll think about it." I climb out of the car and blow him a kiss before shutting the door. Dad waves at me, and I wave back as he drives down the street and around the corner out of sight.

_Well that went well_, I thought. _Ironically he doesn't know about what happened between Queenie and I recently. Not that it matters._ I pause while I walk. _She's still a friend I've grown too fond of this year to simply not care about. I'd be...infuriated if something like that were to happen to her_.

But as I head into the building, I think about Queenie and Jay Hogart in the same bed. _Why...? I still don't understand why she would do that. _ I shake my head. _Then make an effort to understand. Talk to her._

I'm inside the building with fifteen minutes before classes start. Usually I ask Dad to bring me to school a bit earlier so I can get some reading done, or sometimes (you know, when that just doesn't happen) I find time to catch up with my friends simply just to hang out and make memories.  
Today I didn't want to straighten my hair, or decided against having to straighten it out every two or three weeks, so I have it big (The way it is naturally). I have it all stuffed in a large side ponytail at the top of my head, giving me a couple of inches on my height. I dash towards my locker, an easy task since there are hardly any students here, and dismount my backpack. I retrieve the drawstring in my locker and stuff my textbook and two notebooks inside, and leave the novel that I'm reading outside to carry.

I head towards a tiny bench by the lobby area of a side entrance into the school and make myself comfortable, sitting Indian style on the bench, and proceed with my _Inkspell_ reading adventure. It's a favorite of mine even if it's written for a younger audience, and I can delve into it in peace and silence: hardly anyone comes in through the side entrance. _What will become of Meggie's father? We shall see_. I think as I open the book. I never actually finished it since I would always stop just at the mid way point, but now I've gone beyond there, and I can't wait to get to the ending.

I look up as the rays of the sun glare through the large glass window; one of the sections is boarded up due to the wind damage from the last storm. I smile at myself: what a great time. I feel at peace with myself, something that has NEVER happened to me since I came to Degrassi. _Better read while I still have the time_.

Only six pages in do I hear someone approaching the area. Quickly I look up and see some buff- ish, blonde guy: I think I recognize him from earlier in the school year. I do! He's the guy that confronted Emma about her ribbon campaign. The slightest trace of a smile (an upturned corner of his mouth) appears on his face, and I return the gesture to the best of my ability. (Though it may look like I'm just smiling) I return to my book while listening as the blonde guy heaves a sigh and drops his backpack on the floor to the right of him. In just a matter of seconds, I tune him out along with the rest of my surroundings and engage into my reading. I glance down at my blue watch to check the time: there's still ten minutes before class. Just as I catch on, the bell rings.

"Hey."

I look up as Blondie speaks. "Hmm?"

"Are you waiting to see the assistant principal too?" He jerks his head in the direction of the door on the other side of him.

Quickly I shake my head. "Oh no. I'm just reading here." I say cheerily. "It's a quiet spot this early in the morning."

"So I see." The guy squints at me. "Have I seen you before?"

I nod. "Probably. I remember your face when those Orange ribbons were going around."

"Oh." He frowns, looking engaged in thought. "I...vaguely remember a black girl being there." He widens his eyes. "No offense."

"None taken." I can't help but chuckle.

"You a friend of Rick's?" He asks.

_Talk about out of the blue._ "Um...yeah." I say. _ No point in going into details with a guy I barely know._

"Sorry that came out of nowhere, but you know Jay right? He's always talking about how much he can't stand him and is pissed that he's trying to seduce this underclassmen into liking him- or so he says."

I arch an eyebrow.

"Again: sorry. You just fit the description of the girl he was talking about. Said her name was Vivian."

"Yeah. I'm her." I'm shocked that Jay would mention me by my actual name. "Who are you exactly?"

"Sean. Cameron's. Jay's friend." He offers a hand.

"You seem awful friendly to be friends with someone like Jay." I take his hand, " and I've never seen you participating in the bullying that takes place between your pals and Rick." I smile. "But it's nice to meet you though."

"I said I was friends with _Jay_." He corrects me. "Those other idiots I could care less about. That shit gets old."

_Somehow _Jay_ misses the idiocy train?_ "You didn't pass that one along to Jay." I say dryly.

"Look, I keep telling you that I'm only friends with the guy." He says more bluntly. "Not his brother, his parent, his teacher. I don't control what he does. That's what mommy's for." He sighs.

"So...you're not a fan of the bullying, but you won't do anything about it?" I scoff. "Figures."

"What was that supposed to mean?" Sean hardens his voice and glares at me. He appears...offended.

"I'm sorry, but it's usually the people who have the ability to make a change who don't. I've had enough run-ins with that character-of-a-friend of yours, and no matter how many times I ask him to stop, or _tell_ him to stop- nicely or rudely- it doesn't matter." I explain. "To him, I'm just a little girl he can easily overpower. You, on the other hand, if you are Jay's friend like you claim you are, have the ability to get Jay to listen to you. What the heck, Sean?" I sigh heavily. "Sorry if I vented. I'm really tired of the same old stuff that happens to Rick everday. It's like what you just said: this shit gets old."

"Look, I'm not here to be the man of the hour! I have my own set of problems to worry about, okay?" Sean glares at me as he raises his voice. "Keep playing Degrassi Police if you want and see where it gets you, but I'm through with high school drama. I reached my limit last year and decided that was it." Sean suddenly pauses and draws in a breath. "No, I don't care for what they're putting Rick through", He's calmer this time, "but it's none of my business to jump into, and quite frankly, I don't want to." He leans in close to me, our faces only a couple of inches apart. "Don't tell me what I should and shouldn't do again. Got it?" His pale blue eyes burn into my dark ones.

I can feel myself boiling. _Who is he _talking_ to?_ "Don't you _dare_ talk to me like I'm your child." Some spit flies from my mouth to his face, but I'm too hot-headed to care. "You know what? You're right: you do you. Since, you know, you're the only person at this school with personal problems." I stand up from the bench. "This isn't going over so well, so I'll see you later when I won't say something I'll regret. Have a good time at the principal's office." I fling my drawstring over my shoulder. "We should argue again some time."

"Whoa, wait a minute." Sean grabs my arm. "Before you take out your anger on the next guy you see, I there' s something I think you should-"

"That's okay. I can hear it some other time." I snatch my arm away and storm off before I lose my temper.

_What a sarcastic ass_. I think angrily, then chuckle at myself. _Takes one to know one, right?_

I turn the corner left and make my way through the senior hallway. Now it's alive with students putting their belongings in their lockers. Soon I reach the clearing to the main lobby where the student population multiplies as more people enter the building. After I walk across the lobby, I reach the Grade 10 corridor and head for my locker. Just a few feet away, however, I pause in my tracks as I notice Queenie standing there.

"I knew you'd show eventually." She moves towards me. "I really need to talk to you about what you saw the other day at my house."

I stare at her for a few more seconds before replying, "I was thinking the same thing." I nod, attempting to soften my voice after fighting with Sean, and only after just meeting him too... _Way to go, Vivian_ "I just don't understand how or _why_ you'd do something like-"

"I know." My friend says abruptly. "I can only imagine what you must have been thinking those first few seconds when you saw us. I am so sorry for having put you through that hell."

"That still doesn't explain why you did it." I say.

"I know, I know." Queenie says again. "But there was a reason...two actually, and neither of them involved hurting you...or Alex for that matter, who's going to find out eventually."

"Why would Alex find out? Wouldn't Jay want to keep that a secret from her?" I squint.

"Girl, if you would let me finish the story, then you'd know!" Queenie snaps.

I flinch at this but go along with it.

"Now, I heard Alex the other day at lunch with Heather Sinclair and some other people I don't know. The name Vivian entered the conversation, and it caught my attention. Then Alex started talking about you- not good things. Somehow she was suspicious of you sleeping with her boyfriend and was talking about how she saw Jay with the same locket she saw you wearing at some point in time. Said he actually showed it to her one time."

I squint. I couldn't be more confused.

"I heard her go on about trying to kick you off the council-or more like get you to quit- by revealing your relationship between you and Rick in front of the council. Said it would be easy since no one there likes him."

* * *

**Flashback (Queenie's P.O.V)**

"Little Vivi would be heartbroken." Alex continues. "She loves serving on this council with everyone. I won't feel bad through: She'll learn in the future not to cross the line with me."

"You know for sure that Jay and Vivian..." Heather starts.

"No, but Jay keeps complaining about how she keeps making advances on him. She may be able to do that with Freak-boy, but she needs to know her limits." Alex replies.

* * *

**Vivian's P.O.V. (Present)  
**

"WHAT?" Killing Jay would make life so much easier. "Why would he say that?" _Ha! Why wouldn't he?_

"Why wouldn't he?" She echoes my thoughts. "For one: to cover up his fault of trying to-" she glances around "-rape you. If he shifts the blame on you, then he'll get out of trouble. This is your first year here, Vivian. I don't want your entire experience to be ruined by some punk who thinks he's the shit."

"So you..."

"I gave him something to talk about." She explains. "Since you didn't want to tell anyone about Jay, I decided to give him something else to think about." She smirks. "I have to say, he's pretty good at moving his hips."

"Ugh! Okay!" My stomach is always unsettled at the mention of that kid and anything...implied about him. "That's psychotic, Queenie! You did all of that just to protect my reputation?" Goosebumps cover my skin. _My friend is more insane than I thought._

"Alright, I'll admit that I kinda had a thing for Jay last year; back when I was pretty...out there." Queenie replies. "But yes: I went all the way there just to make sure that you aren't as stressed as you could be." Queenie puts her hands on her hips. "And for someone who made friends with a guy who used to beat his girlfriend, you have some nerve to call _me_ crazy!" She sticks her tongue out at me.

I try with every ounce of my being to suppress my laughter, but I release it as a way of admitting defeat. "You win." I say. _Especially considering what happened between us recently._ "Guess I owe you an apology, huh?"

"I wouldn't be a good friend if I blamed you for reacting the way you did." My friend replies. "So I'm sorry that you're friends with a nut like me!"

"Well, sorry anyway for not hearing you out." I say.

"Yeah you better be!" Queenie smirks. "Just kidding! Listen, there's probably going to be some serious trash talk about me. I'm telling you right now to not worry about it. I'd rather them slam me than you. There's just too much on your plate right now."

"Why would they 'slam' you?" I ask. "Did you go blabbing about it?"

"Only to the best Gossip Queen of Degrassi: Sinclair."

"Oh." Yeah, she's in trouble. "Look, can we finish this later? I need to get to my things for gym class."

"Sweet pea, remember I'm In the same class." Queenie says. "We can go together. We've been void of each other for too long."

"Yeah: a whole two days." I say. "Brace yourself. You've inserted yourself in the middle of Degrassi drama."

"Hey, which one of us is the new girl?" She says.

Finally. The duo is back, but I still can't wrap My mind around the fact of how Queenie was so willing to lie with Jay. I know she said she had a crush on him before (I won't ask), but how could she have just...done it with him, knowing that Jay's with Alex, and shrug it off along with the consequences to follow? Why is she treating this whole ordeal like it doesn't matter to her?

_I'm keeping a closer eye on you, Queenie._


	22. Avoiding (Codename) Ben from Lakehurst

_Guys! I'm so excited that I have time to write again! Thanks for the reviews, and I hope you continue to enjoy your reading adventure!_

**XXII. Avoiding (Codename) Ben from Lakehurst  
**

* * *

_"I'd rather have Jay slam me into a locker than have Vivian avoid me all day."_

* * *

My day is halfway over. All I have is lunch, my remaining three classes, and then I'll be done with the day.

I was tense today during our student council meeting as I looked over at Alex. She appeared irritated at the questions that members would ask about a task that she had given. But that's a typical Alex. She didn't display any unusual behavior towards me. We addressed each other with our usual mutual respect, and even if she treated me to a snarky remark, I was always ready with my own.

During the lunch break was my moment to exhale. I have first period lunch, so that means whatever is being served is in its best condition- you know: for cafeteria food. I made conversation with Manny and Liberty Van-Zandt, a friend of hers. It was full of talks about how J.T., her recent ex, was giving her the cold shoulder since she ad ended the relationship. I asked her what went wrong- and regretted it immediately once she told me what happened with him...and the pump. I recalled a similar story while chatting with Toby the other day; he handed me the box, and pointed at the slogan. "The one that'll turn your garden snake into an anaconda." Life goals, gentlemen. Gold star.

"So, enough about my pathetic love life. Let's talk about yours, Vivian, and what's happening between you and Mr. Dreamy."

I widened my eyes upon the sudden change of subject. "Um...th-there's nothing to tell really."

"Oh, come on." Manny says. "Queenie keeps talking about how you two are sooo into each other. You sound like a good fit. Haven't you ever dated anyone before?"

The heat rushed to my face when she asked me this. "Um...no?" I replied hesitantly.

"You're adorable!" Manny practically purred, which reminded me too much of Diane's initial impression on meeting me. "It's okay: now is the perfect time to start! And I can help you out."

"Whatever you do, Vivian," Liberty rested a hand on my shoulder, "should this travesty of Manny assisting you come to past, don't allow her to transform your wardrobe. That's a sign that she has taken too much control of your life."

"Ha ha, Liberty. Don't you have a history assignment to complete for extra credit?" Manny made a playful look of disgust on her face. "But anyway, Vivian, who _is_ this mystery guy, and how come you've never introduced me to him?"

Why didn't I forsee this coming? "Because- uh- he's really shy. Doesn't even go to this school."

"Really?" Manny's interest seemed to increase. "Who is he? Is he from that Lakehurst school?"

"Yeah." I replied immediately even though I was completely unaware of Lakehurst until this moment. "His name is Ben, but I'm not going to tell anything else." I looked over at my friend to see if she was buying into the lie. Why would I openly admit to having ties with Rick in that large cafeteria? Speaking of which, I briefly glanced around to see if I could spot him. _He does have the same lunch. _I didn't see him however.

"Well if you insist, Vivian." Manny sighed dramatically.

_You have no idea._

* * *

Now I have to go through Miss Kwan's English class with Rick after what happened the night before. _I can hardly wait._

Slowly I approach the classroom and stop right before I reach the doorway. The moment of hesitation strikes me here. I look down at my watch and see that there's still five minutes before class starts. Rick usually comes into class around this time: earlier to avoid being harassed. Suddenly my heart beat accelerates: everything from the night before plays through my mind like a horror film. Why had Rick lost control of himself? Why did he think he could eagerly help himself to my body just because I let him kiss me? Even _that_ was him defying my instructions for him to get off of me. _I can't go in there alone. Not now anyway_.

Like an answer to a prayer, Emma approaches me. "What's wrong? Is there something weird going on in the classroom?"

I shake my head. "No. There's just...someone in there that I just don't want to see."

Emma gives me a look of suspicion but understanding. "Is this person who I think he is?"

I nod briskly.

"Want me to see if he's in there?" She asks me.

"That would be helpful. Yeah."

Emma scoots right by the glass window of the doorway and peers inside. After a couple of seconds, she faces me again. "He's reading a book in there. Usually if you're quiet, he won't notice you walking in."

I try and look over as well. "Who else is in there?"

"There's..." Emma looks into the classroom again. "Eliza, Zack, Abigail and a few other students I don't know by name." She tells me. "I'm pretty sure, whatever happened between you two, that he wouldn't try to hurt you. Not now or ever." Suddenly she widens her light brown eyes. "That is...unless what happened between you _was_ that he hurt you."

"No! That's not it." I say. _Not physically anyway._ "Would you mind walking in with me? I'd rather not go in alone."

"I'm taking it that you're going to sit by me today as well." Emma says. "Come on: you'll be alright."

I follow her into Miss Kwan's room and sit with her closer towards the front. I can see Rick out of my peripheral as we are walking and try my hardest not to make eye contact with him. We take our seats in the second row of tables, and I watch as Miss Kwan writes out today's lesson on the chalk board. Quickly the rest of the class begins to fill in the seats and prepare themselves for today's notes and reading.

Emma nudges me, and I face her. "What happened? You two were such good friends, more than that from what I could tell."

I shake my head. "Very long story. I'll tell you after class." I respond.

"Well then, do you know anything about the recent buzz? Concerning Queenie and Jay?"

_Dang! That was fast!_ "Well, being Queenie's friend, I'm usually the first to know these things about her." I answer.

"She doesn't care that people in the cafeteria were calling her the 'dirty dog whore' or 'Jay's canary'?"

"Emma!" I raise my voice.

This causes Miss Kwan to turn around. "Vivian. Usually I don't have to tell you to be quiet."

Heat rushes to my face. "Sorry."

Our teacher nods curtly and faces the board again.

"I really didn't need to hear that about my best friend, Emma." I whisper.

"Neither did I, but I don't understand how she's so carefree about it." Emma shakes her head. "I'd be surprised if she actually slept with him. The two are opposites."

I arch an eyebrow. "And if she did sleep with him? Would you consider her a 'dirty dog whore'?" I don't mask the agitation filling my voice.

"That's not what I meant." Emma says. "I saw Queenie today before going to lunch, and for a person who's at the heart of a dirty rumor, she seems way too bubbly."

"I know." I reply. "I don't understand it either." Movement catches the corner of my left eye, and my heart jumps out of my chest as I recognize Rick moving towards Miss Kwan to ask her a question or what not about an assignment. I look at him as he's facing the teacher: he looks like his usual dejected self, or maybe he is a little more gloomier than usual. I look down at my notebook and bite my lip. _I refuse to feel guilty about something that _he_ did wrong! I don't care how nice he is!_ I tell myself this as Rick walks by me, and I pretend write in my notebook. I can see him staring at me, feel him staring at me. Ever since last night when our bodies had been in physical contact, I can always feel his presence in the room like he's somehow glued to me.

Just when I think it's safe to exhale when he walks by, I feel something small crawl down my back, and I nearly jump out of my seat. That's when I hear something, probably the same something, hit the floor beside me. Quickly I glance around the floor to find this thing: felt like a piece of paper.

"Behind you." Emma surprisingly instructs.

I follow her advice and find a balled up piece of paper on the floor; it's so tiny, but it had such a sensation as it fell down my back. I get out of my chair in order to retrieve the ball of paper. As I stand up, I can feel him again. This time I look over at him. Indeed he's staring back at me with heavy brown eyes, the ceiling lights reflecting off his round glasses. There's an expression of sheer pleading there. I hold his gaze for a moment longer, then the final bell rings, and I quickly face the front of the classroom again.

* * *

**Rick's P.O.V.**

I know it's my fault: I'm used to taking the blame for everything that ever happens to me. I just need for sweet Vivian to understand that what I did was truly unintentional.

I wrote her a note asking her if we could talk after school and purposely dropped the wadded piece of paper down her back so she couldn't ignore it. I watched as she searched for it and grabbed it off the floor. My heart froze in my chest once she looked at me. She and her wide, dark pretty eyes. I stared back. Not too long ago, I enjoyed what I saw twinkling back at me, which is usually pure warmth and a beautiful smile, but now, the way she looked at me before turning back around, I feel more pain than when Spinner, Jimmy or Jay attacked me in the past.

She's afraid of me.

The same look was on her face when she broke away from our kiss. Fear: as if her life is in danger with me. I know what I did happened in her own house, but I can't fathom that look on her face. It's more painful than when Jay punched me in the stomach; than when Emma kicked me out of The Dot; more painful than when my best friend from last year decided to ignore me; it's even less tolerable than the "bonding moments" I have with my father.

Her look stays with me as I'm listening to Miss Kwan's lecture about the American Salem Witch Trials. All I can see of Vivian is the back of her head; with her black hair so...big, I did a double take at her initially. She looks so different with a huge bun in her head, but still beautiful. I keep finding myself looking at her; I'm closer to Spinner than I am to her, especially considering that she used to sit next to me. I knew after last night she wouldn't want to, but it still doesn't quell my yearning for her. Even more knowing that she's scared to come near me. I look beside me at the empty seat that usually belongs to Vivian.

I can still feel her from the other night, a warm, soft little creature in my arms. Then I went too far, and even though I did touch her...chest without her consent, I relished the moment. I had never wanted any girl as much (well, maybe except for Emma). And her lips...if she let me, I would have kissed them for the rest of the night.

I feel a solid hit me in the side of my head, like a pebble. Quickly I look up to see a snickering Spinner just a row ahead of me. He holds his hands up as if he's shrugging his shoulders, pretending that he doesn't know what happened.

Usually I find this act, which he does every other day, exasperating, but today I'm thankful for him: I need to think about something else, anything else, besides Vivian. I'd rather have Jay slam me into a locker than have Vivian avoid me all day.

"Richard, would you happen to know the answer?" Miss Kwan calls on me, and I just stare at her with my mouth open. The class starts laughing hysterically. I look in Vivian's direction to find that she, or Emma for that matter, still aren't looking at me. I know from the heat on my face that I'm completely red.

"How about paying attention next time? I find daydreaming in this class just as disrespectful as making noise."

"Um, my apologies, Miss Kwan." I slide my hands into my pockets.

Miss Kwan gives me a stern look and moves on to another student who's raising her hand to answer the question. This is when I see Vivian turn around to look at me. She gives me a faint smile. Even this makes me feel good about myself. I smile back at her in the same way. _Maybe she read my note and is saying yes to my question._

When class is over, I make my way towards Vivian, who seems like she's already expecting me as she pauses to gather her things. Besides being pushed into the table by Spinner, I manage to reach her without much trouble.

Vivian is the first of us to speak. "Are you okay? It's so annoying that Spinner thinks he can attack you whenever he feels like it."

"I'm fine, Vivian. I always am." I respond. "What I'm not fine with is us."

"Same." Vivian says. "So...you want to talk about this after classes end, right?"

"Whatever works best for you." I answer.

"Then after school it is." Vivian says with a straight face.

"Okay." I slump my shoulders in relief. "Do you want to walk to Ms. Hatzilakos' class together? You know: after you have your choir class?"

"Oh...sorry, but I was going to meet up with Queenie and talk to her about something." I see remorse reflected in her eyes.

Disappointment strikes me like a punch in the face. "Oh. Okay. I understand." I say.

"Hey: we agreed to talk after school, remember?" Vivian nudges me. "See you in class, and watch out for those idiots." She rolls her eyes. "Will they ever stop? I still can't believe that Mr. Raditch isn't doing anything about it."

I shrug. "I don't really care about that now."

"You should." Vivian says. "Look, I'm going to meet up with Queenie now. We'll talk later okay? Be careful going to class." Briskly she walks away.

"Bye." I call after her. I feel a sudden ache in my chest. Even though Vivian was right in front of me to the point where I could smell the shampoo in her hair, she felt a million miles away.

But I'll bring her back even if it means wrapping a lasso around her and reeling her in.


	23. The Queen Loses her Crown When

_Hi, guys! Thanks so much for your reviews and your patience! I'm really excited for you to read this next chapter. Tell me what you think! Have fun! :)**  
**_

**XXIII. The Queen Loses her Crown When Everything goes Down**

* * *

"What's up, beautiful?" Queenie greets me as we walk in the same general direction. I've had my music class in between Miss Kwan's class and Ms. Hatzilakos' class, but it goes by so quickly that I hardly consider it a class. Now Queenie and I are both headed to physics together although we have different teachers. I watch as her black, curly hair bounces as she walks like it sometimes does.

"A lot. There's something I need to tell you about Ri-" I stop and glance around. "About _him_."

"Immediately my friend moves closer towards me. "Yeah? Did you guys finally take the next step?" Her light brown eyes are sparkling.

"Um, actually..." I tell Queenie about what happened yesterday between Rick and I, the entire "kiss gone amiss" story.

"I had to kick him out, well actually, he took it upon himself to leave. I felt extremely uncomfortable after what he did." I shake my head. "He seemed to feel really guilty about it, but then I thought about Terri and Ivory and how he probably acted the same way after he hurt them."

"You had every right to kick him out if you felt uncomfortable." Queenie tells me. "So you're starting to doubt that he's different after all?"

"It pains me to admit that I'm starting to see Rick the way most of my classmates do. "I know he wants to be different and is making a huge effort," I explain, "but he's not paying attention to the basic rules of respect in a relationship. It's like he's trying too hard and too fast to change."

"You mean the he was so determined to clean up his reputation that he forgot the basic rules of consent?"

"He made me feel like a victim in my own house." I explain. "On top of that, there was one thing he said that rubbed me the wrong way."

"What?" Queenie frowns. A student walking past us fake coughs a "slut" as he moves in between us, and she shoves him away.

Briefly I watch the exchange before I answer. "He said that he has to keep me._ 'Keep_ me': like I'm a possession of his."

"Hmm." Queenie says.

"That and the way he had me pinned down. I thought for sure that he would be another Jay." I fold my arms acoss my chest.

"Have you talked to him about it yet?" Queenie asks.

"We will after this last class." I reply. "He passed me a note in Miss Kwan's class asking me to talk with him."

"Awww, see? He can't be that bad." Queenie smiles and pats my back. "At least you can say he feels guilty about it. He can't be so terrible, Vivian, especially considering that he saved your life."

"Don't remind me." I say. "You make it seem like I owe him something all because he prevented me from drowning." I pray that Rick wouldn't think in that way, or he would be no different from Jay. And to have two Jays at this school? The thought alone is horrifying.

"That's not what I'm saying at all, and I doubt that Rick would use that reasoning once you talk to him." Queenie says. "If he does, drop his ass fast. Break off any ties with him immediately because that means he still sees girls as objects; something to posess, as you mentioned before."

We approach the science hallway and make our way over to the overhang which holds both my and Queenie's classrooms.

"And this," Queenie says, "is where we part. Now gimme a hug. I have a feeling we won't see each other after class."

"We really need to hug anyway." I embrace an open-armed Queenie, which turns into a tight squeeze without fail. Every time. _I really have missed her._

Almost immediately after we pull a part, Alex approaches us. She moves at a quick pace.

"Er...hey." I greet her, but she doesn't look in my direction.

"Hey, Queenie," she says, "let me talk to you for a second."

Three.

Two.

One.

It happens in slow motion. Alex punches Queenie square in the face. The sound of the impact reverberates across the entire corridor. I shriek as my best friend hits the floor.

But her hair goes flying in the air.

I watch with my jaw dropped as Queenie's...apparent _wig_ is airborne and lands right beside her. The rate of my heart beat accelerates sky high. Several students have gathered to see about the commotion and have all fallen silent as they look down at Queenie.

I do too. Her head is completely shaved. Bald. Not a hair in friend has a clean head, but She's still flawless. Flawless and bald. Her head has a perfectly round, even shape. The students circling us are pointing and squealing as they too watched Queenie's wig fly off of her head.

I open my mouth, but Alex beats me. "Did you have a good time with him, Queenie? Did you think you were slick, Queenie? Tell me what you liked most about riding my boyfriend, Queenie. Did you honestly think you'd get away with it?" She raises her voice for all of the hallway to hear. She's fuming so much she's oblivious to the crowd growing around us. I recognize Jay and Sean as they appear behind her.

Meanwhile, poor Queenie has her hand against her eye, lying in agony on the floor.

"Look at that!" Alex shouts. "The Queen of sluts is not only knocked off her throne, but hairless too! Is there anything else you would like to let us know, Queenie?"

"Alex, just chill, alright?"Jay says from behind looking just as flabbergasted as I feel.

"_You_ shut the hell up!" Alex turns and faces her boyfriend...maybe now her ex?

For the millisecond she's occupied with Jay, I kneal down to help out Queenie. It's all I know how to do after everything happening and everyone staring at us.

"Don't bother. I'm fine." She moves my hands away with the two of hers, and I see her newly blackened eye against her caramel skin. I stare in horror. She looks like a completely different person now. Everything about her bubbly demeanor has been knocked away by Alex's punch.

"That's right, Vivian: she's fine." I jump at Alex's voice. "Is there anything her highness would like to add?"

"Yes. There IS." My heart hammers in my chest as I watch Queenie climb to her feet. "I didn't ride Jay last night."

Everyone around us gasps and starts chatting amongst themselves.

"He rode ME. And i enjoyed every second of it."

In these seconds to follow, I black out; I can't tell who threw the first blow, but as staff members force themselves into the crowd and pry students apart from each other, I find myself on top of Alex and underneath Jay as we both hold her back. Snake is restraining Queenie, and everyone else are being yelled at to go to class. Ms. Hatzilakos is one of the teachers to help break the three of us apart. As soon as I stand and ruffle my ponytail, I feel a fresh wave of pain from the side of my head, which was received from being tackled to the floor by Jay.

As Alex stands up, she holds the back of her head, and Principal Raditch escorts her out of sight, possibly to his office. She glares menacingly at Jay and I as she passes. _Sorry, Alex. I couldn't let you hurt my best friend anymore._

I look over at Jay who got his cap knocked off in the turmoil. His hair is brown underneath; I would have guessed that he was more of a brunette, but whatever. I guess I wasn't really paying attention to him last night when he was with Queenie.

"Take a picture: it'll last longer." Miraculously, in spite of possibly losing his girlfriend and finding out that his former secret lover is bald, he's still as dry as ever.

"A tragedy that would be." I leave Jay alone in the hallway and stand by the doorway to wait for the nurse pass that Ms. Hatzilakos is filling out for me. Thanks to Mr. Smartass Hogart, I'm feeling the effects of my concussion again. I'll have to call Rick from the nurse's office and tell him that he'll have to wait a while before we can talk.

Speaking of, I recall the advice that Queenie told me about him...before I discovered she was bald. I don't even know where to begin with that entire situation. _Well, before all of that, she thinks that what Rick did was an honest mistake. Shoot, I was there; it _was_ an honest mistake._

I have a lot to go over before I talk to Rick.

* * *

**Rick's P.O.V.**

As Toby and I walk to Ms. Hatzilakos' class, we observe that the hallway is unusually bare. There's no one in sight except for the occasional student at his or her locker. Other than that there's plenty of room to stretch my legs. No Spinner. No Jimmy. No Jay. For once I can breathe.

"Dude, bet twenty dollars that there's a fight happening around the corner." Toby declares.

"We've already played this game before, Toby." I reply. "Besides, I find it rather obvious that something has distracted our fellow classmates. Now an actual bet would be naming who's in the fight." I'm going to make this interesting if there's going to be cash involved.

"Is this another of your challenges?" My friend mocks me as he always does.

But he's sadly mistaken this time. "Do you hesitate, dear Toby, to accept?"

"Oh, no: it's on." Toby holds out his hand, and I shake it firmly. This time I won't lose.

"So, my friend, which of the two genders do you believe is brawling it out? By the looks of the hallway and going by fights I've witnessed in the past, I'll have to wager the ladies." I say. "You see, male fights are more intense, but female fights in school are much more...entertaining."

"Yeah, but a dude fight would attract the largest group." Toby argues. "Although no one's around...would all of those people get that close to two guys tumbling like that?"

"Ah, it's girls obviously, but maybe the amount of people means that the girl can punch very well." I add on. "I say 'girl' because the odds of two girls using fists, well in a high school anyway, are really low."

"How do we know that it's either two guys or two girls? What if there's a guy and a girl?" Questions Toby.

"One: guys are usually stronger than girls, so it wouldn't be an entertaining fight. Two: those types of guys receive a bad reputation and the people around you won't let you forget about the incident until you leave." I scowl as I think of the time I had at Degrassi so far. No one would make my mistake. _They've seen me suffering too much._

"Touche." Toby replies. "So we both agree that it's a chick fight?"

"Affirmative." I reply. "Now do we know of any girls who like to punch?"

Toby and I seem to agree that Alex has to be one of the two, but her opponent is where we're split. Fortunately I overheard Vivian's conversation in Miss Kwan' s class and know who has the greatest chance of being at the end of her fist.

"Emma and Alex took a tumble last year. What if they're at it again?" Emma is Toby's favorite girl, and I can't blame him. Somehow I feel that if I had never met Vivian, my friend and I would be competing a lot more to win over Emma's affection. I watch as he beams. "Dude, we're missing out!"

I watch as Toby picks up the pace and follow him towards the crescendo of voices. Without a doubt there are cries of glee coming from just around the corner.

"Rick, you didn't declare who you think the other girl is." Toby says.

"I'm going to take a stretch and say that...um, I don't know, Queenie is up against Alex?"

"What? No way you can be serious about that." Toby's eyes widen. Sadly, he always questions my logic. He has so much to learn.

"Ah, but I am. And so the bet commences!" I have never been so certain in a bet.

"Hey: even if it isn't Emma, I'd be much more approximate than by guessing Queenie."

We've been through this procedure before: only one of us can be right in order to win. If both of us are wrong, then the bet cancels out. On the contrary, should our minds think alike (as they usually do) and we're both correct, we treat ourselves to a little drink. A cooler on the rare circumstance that we guess correctly won't destroy our liver.

This time around, however, I will be doing the victory march. The chatter gets louder the closer we approach our peers. The instant we turn the corner, we spot a crowd of them all circled around a commotion. I feel myself trembling in excitement.

"Be ready to hand me that twenty, man." Toby says to me.

I scoff. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

Out of the sea of savage-like animals emerges none other than Miss Nelson. Just a single glance over, and one is able to tell by her smooth, blonde hair that she didn't engage in any rough-housing.

I suppress the grin that's threatening to take over my lips as Emma comes near us. Automatically Toby's wager is eliminated. _Sorry, pal. I don't owe you anything._ "Afternoon, Emma. What seems to be the predicament?" I nod towards the crowd.

"Rick. Toby." This is nice for Emma, and I'll take it. "It's Alex and Queenie. See for yourself. Ms. Hatzilakos is allowing students to enter class late since it's happening right outside the classroom." Emma walks past us, her long hair flowing behind her as she walks.

I let the grin surface and hold my hand out towards Toby. "Relinquish the cash, Toby."

"Fine: I'll pay you first thing tomorrow morning." Toby shakes his head as he makes his way towards class.

Toby may possess the charm to reel in girls, but I'm highly skilled at calculating the most possible outcome of a situation. I chuckle to myself.

"I missed the joke, psycho."

I glance up to see Jay before me; a.k.a., one of my three daily tormentors. I flinch upon his appearance: without his signature backwards cap to mark his bad-boy image, he looks like an entirely different person. No matter: whatever he wishes to do to me, I'll take it like a man.

Suddenly the unthinkable happens: he walks away from me. No menacing glare, no shove, not even a bump in the shoulder. I've grown so used to his torments that somehow Jay's neglect is more insulting. It doesn't feel natural, as if I hadn't shown up to school at all today. This had been the only time I had seen Jay today, and he did nothing to make my life miserable. Maybe he cowars away if teachers are near by. I look ahead and see staff members yelling at students to go to class, and slowly the crowd disperses.

I spot Mr. Raditch escorting Alex Nunez from sight. I'm sure she left a number on Queenie's face. She's seething with anger as she walks with the principal. According to what I heard from Vivian, Queenie and Jay had...I'm too weak to finish that train of thought. _She could have done so much better._ I'm not good friends with Queenie the way Vivian is, but even I would have never imagined the two of them together.

Speaking of which, I see Vivian standing outside of the classroom, and my heart skips three beats. Quickly I approach her. I notice that she's holding what looks like a wig. "Hey!" I say as I come towards her.

She flinches at me. "Hey." She looks out of it, as if she's a million miles away.

"You okay?" I ask softly. I get a closer look and notice that the corner of her left eye is swollen. My heart pounds. She was involved in that mess?!

"Fine-uh...I don't know." Vivian responds. "Did you see what happened?"

"I just missed it." I reply. "What happened? Your eye..." I reach out to touch it with my thumb, and she winces.

"Please don't do that." She says. "That hurts. But yeah: it was Queenie and Alex. I had to tackle Alex so she wouldn't take another swing on my best friend. Do you see this?" She holds up the wig in her hand. "This fell off of her head."

I look at the wig, and it looks like the hair I've seen on Queenie: black and curly. Wow: it's hard to imagine her without it. "So does that mean she's..."

"Bald? Yes." Vivian answers. "Guess she was embarrassed about coming to school with a shaven look."

I frown as I look away to imagine Queenie being bald, but an image doesn't come to mind, or maybe I'm in denial that her hair was never real. How long had she'd been wearing that wig?

"You look just about as confused as I feel." Vivian says.

"I don't blame you." I nod towards the classroom. "Come in with me?"

She shakes her head. "Unfortunately my new injury sort of bothered the concussion I already have. I'm waiting for Ms. Hatzilakos to write me a pass to see the nurse."  
This is not a good day. The second time I offer Vivian to walk with me, and she's already got something else planned. I know this time it's urgent, but still...I miss her. _I want you back, sweet, little Vivian._

"Hey, why do you look so hurt?" Vivian inquires. "We're still going to talk later, remember?"

"Usually we would have talked to each other several times by now." I reply rather bitterly.

Vivian raises her eyebrows. "I know that, Rick, but today was rather busy, and besides...small talk is something I can't do with you right now considering what happened with us last night."

I look down at my shoes as I always do-when I'll talking to Emma or some other girl that brushes me off like a dust mite. Finally I nod my head.

"Just this final class, okay? Then we'll talk, but I think you should go inside now." Vivian gestures towards the classroom. "Ms. H. doesn't approve of lateness especially if she gives you additional time to get to class."

She gets me to smile at this. "You're right. Until after school, then?" Ms. Hatzilakos walks out of the classroom and hands Vivian her note.

"You can count on it." She winks at me before walking down the hallway.

I stare after her as she marches down the hall. Her cute little walk brings a warmth to my heart. I haven't paid any attention to it until now. Time couldn't go by any slower.

"Mr. Murray, are you going to stand there for the rest of the day?"

Abruptly I face Ms. Hatzilakos and begin to blush. "My apologies." I head into the room. The yearning keeps getting stronger the closer the time draws near. As I move to my lab station I can only think of what will transpire after class.

Nothing has ever meant more to me. Vivian has to understand that what I did didn't start a series of abuse. I learned the hard way with Terri. Although I wasn't punished as severely as I had expected, the idea alone was enough to scare me straight. I can't go through Degrassi without her, at least until I have proven to everyone how wrong they are about me, and maybe, just maybe, I'll have more friends than just Vivian and Toby.

Until then I need Vivian, and I'm determined to keep her my life at all costs.

* * *

**Vivian's P.O.V.**

"Would you like to take some pain killers with you?" The nurse, a young blonde woman, asks me.

I smile. "I'm good. Have some at home, but thank you."

She smiles back. "Alright then. Do you have a Gym class this semester? You need to be mindful of the amount of physical activity you do. Although jumping into the middle of a fight to help your friend was really courageous especially for someone your size," she indicates my frame with a wave of her pen, "it wasn't the smartest decision to make concerning your recent concussion."

"Yeah I know." I reply. "And yes I do have a P.E. class, but I have a medical excuse from my doctor saying that I need to sit out for about three weeks before I can participate, and even then, she informed me to be cautious of any activity for the risk of further head injury."

"Good." The nurse says, and she heads back behind her desk to fill out paperwork. "Hope you enjoyed your first visit to the nurse's office, and I don't wish to see you on a regular basis." She chuckles at this. "I tell all the kids this: it'll mean you're sickly or constantly hurting yourself."

I chuckle as well. "Understood, Nurse Maci." I glance back to a closed off section of the room. "Is Queenie back there?"

"Queenie? There was a Queenie Parker in here for a very brief time, but she left soon after. She was one of the girls in the fight you were talking about, so she had to go to the principal's office." Maci looks up from her papers. "Was that your friend? She seems like a sweet girl just like you, and she has a shaved head..."

I nod. "That's my friend. She lost her wig in the fight." I unzip my backpack and pull out Queenie's curly hair. "Did she seem alright when she came in?"

"Oh, sweetie, she just needed ice for her black eye, and she was fine." Maci assures. "YOU, on the other hand, need to lie down on that cot back there for a little while, and I don't care if it's the end of the day. No worries about Hatzilakos, okay? I'll call her and tell her you're staying."

I nod. "Sounds good to me. Thanks!" _Besides I need to rest up in order to have the energy to face Rick._

Almost eagerly, I make my way towards the curtain hiding the cot, take off my shoes and lie down sideways. As soon as I close my eyes I begin to think.

My actions today were driven by fear and adrenaline. It's hard to register what happened today between my best friend and a classmate that I work with on a regular basis. Things will never go back to being normal, especially considering that I tackled Alex and succeeded in possibly giving her a headache.

But with Queenie...what...I didn't know she shaved her head. It's not the fact that she's bald: I'm not a shallow person, but it's the fact that she hid it. It doesn't get under my skin as much as the Jay thing did, but it's worsening the headache I already have just thinking about why she would hide it from me. So why would someone shave her head and cover it up? I wouldn't put it pass Queenie to try out an edgy, severe look, and shaving one's head would definitely fit the bill. _So then what? She chickened out? It's possible, but that doesn't fit Queenie's personality._ There has to be some reason though!

Suddenly a dark thought intrudes my mind, turning the blood cold in my veins, goosebumps crawling over my body. _Could, Could Queenie be sick? Is her baldness due to chemotherapy?_ I sit up and wrap my arms around my legs. That can't be right. She would have told me about something that serious. I hug myself to keep from trembling. _Seems like I'll have to have another talk with my friend, that is, if she wants to._ Until then, I need to straighten things out with Rick. I'm just scaring myself thinking about Queenie's situation.

I hate that I put this off until the end of the day, and I know that Rick thinks that I'm neglecting him. A huge pain pierces my heart. I didn't imagine that I would be the one to hurt his feelings. But that doesn't change the damage that's been done, the damage that he has done. Rick needs to understand that there are boundaries when it comes to relationships, that both people need to be willing to participate in order for there to be a relationship. If he's aware of that, then he shouldn't be so shocked that I'm upset with him because it was he who crossed the line and grabbed my chest. _So what am I implying? If he is upset about me not talking to him then he doesn't understand that concept? Am I saying that Rick's crazy?_

I lie back down on the cot. I just need a nap right now.


	24. Her Decision: What He Won't Forget

_**I'm back again! Took me a while to finish this chapter, but it's FINALLY done! Since my entries have been spaced out over such a long period of time, let me provide a little timeline to guide you through the most recent part of the story:**_

**From Chapters 10 'til recent, the series of events have taken place in just one week:**

**Monday: (10-14): Vivian and the well accident**

**Tuesday: (15-16): Vivian fights with Queenie and reminisces about the previous night with Rick**

**Wednesday (17-20):Vivian catches Queenie with Jay before she spends the afternoon alone with Rick  
**

**Thursday (21-23): Rick wants to make up with Vivian after previous night's incident**

**I hope this helps you out! Now here's the rest of Thursday! :)**

* * *

**XXIV. Her Decision/What He Won't Forget**

* * *

**Rick Murray**

* * *

These five minutes, FIVE measly minutes, could not go by slower. I'm tapping my foot anxiously as I wait for the bell to ring. To talk to Vivian. And get her back.

Due to the wrestle between Alex and Queenie, our class lab assignment changed to book work. I finished it long ago, so now I'm holding a book that I can't read in my hand. I can't stop thinking about Vivian. Just hearing her name gives me chills, and the thought of seeing her face, hearing her smooth voice, smelling her hair...it's too much to handle.

I have a place in mind where Vivian and I could go in order to have the most privacy away from these disgusting people. A local restaurant a little ways out and closer towards the suburbs is what I had in mind. Just she and I alone...music to my ears.

Vivian came in late today due to her visit from the nurse, meaning less time to see her pretty face. I'll surprise her with our little retreat so as long as she has time to come with me; as always, I'll bring her back home safely.

The most beautiful sound echoes around the entire classroom: the school bell. I'm finally free from this hell they call a school. Every hour drags on in a year's worth of time day after day. Today, without much time with Vivian, it felt twice as long. But it's over now, and I'm going to spend the next hour or so with the person that I care about most.

"Alright, where do you wanna talk?"

I jump at the sound of Vivian's voice and look up to see her wearing her new, blank expression.

"Um... do you mind if we go out to a different place? I have a restaurant in mind."

"You want to go to The Dot?" Vivian looks puzzled. "But what happened to you last time..."

"Of course not The Dot. I go to a private one a little ways out called Edna's." I smirk. "You'll never guess who the owner is."

This gets a chuckle out of Vivian, and I start to relax. "Never heard of it."

"You'll like it I promise, and I'll take you home right after." I hold out my hand. "Agreed?"

Vivian stares down at my hand, then looks up at me. I feel myself become as rigid as a gargoyle while she looks me in the eyes, she and her unwavering, scrutinizing gaze. At last she accompanies my hand with her own. "Agreed." She gives it a firm squeeze.

It feels as if a weight has been lifted from my back. "Fantastic. I'll meet you at the assistant principal's office by the side entrance. There's a glass window that's boarded up-"

"I know." Vivian smiles. "I sit there every morning to read."

"Really? I sit there after school everyday to do the same." Great minds think alike.

"Is it peaceful during after school hours?"

"Oh absolutely." I reply. "And in the mornings?"

"You bet." Vivian winks at me. "I'll see you there."

"You will." I grab my messenger bag from the shelf by the doorway and observe the student population in the hallway. I can usually tell by the number of students in the halls when it's safe for me to head to my locker. I have to scope out the scene to avoid unnecessary confrontations with scum bags such as...well, I know who they are.

"You shouldn't have to be afraid to walk to your locker." Once again I jump at Vivian's voice. I can never hear her coming! "Just walk out there with your head held high."

"Tried that once. It doesn't-"

"Keep trying then." Vivian insists. "Eventually they'll get the picture that you're not going anywhere because you have nothing to be ashamed of-anymore."

I shake my head. _M'lady, if you only knew._

* * *

"I need for you to listen to every word I'm saying, Vivian, okay?" I ask.

"I'm listening." Vivian is firm in her response.

Together we sit at a table for two inside of Edna's: a combination of a cafe and gelato shop. I paid for the two of us: I ordered my usual coffee, light on sugar, and Vivian decided to try some of the chocolate flavored gelato. Milk chocolate, she chooses, as it matches her complexion. I decided to make this moment all about spoiling Vivian as I let her choose the table and pulled out the chair for her.

This is the moment I had been waiting for. To make things right between she and I, and have her back. "I know what you're thinking, Vivian. That I've never changed from last year since that...stunt I pulled, for a lack of better words, but I promise you that it's far from the truth. I'm different, Vivian, I am, and I am so sorry that I made you believe otherwise yesterday evening. Please...don't punish me for this."

Vivian nods briskly, and she stares me down much like she did in class. "That wasn't what I was thinking, Rick. I know you're not the same person from last year; you would have lost your temper long ago. No, I was thinking that maybe the two of us together...we're not compatible. At least not now."

I frown in thought. She's basically spitting back what she told me the other day. "Why don't you think we're compatible? Did you never want us to be together?"

Vivian sighs. "I'll start with your second question. Rick, when I ran into you for the first time, quite literally-" she chuckles here, and so do I "-I saw a guy who was suffering through Degrassi day after day. Slowly, as I got to know you better, I grew fond of how sincere you were, and admired how determined you were-and still are, to show people how much you've changed." She holds her hand out towards me, and I take it. "Rick, why would I ever think badly about you? You helped me out of that well, you saved me from drowning. That really makes it difficult, like REALLY difficult, for me to hate you." She caresses my hand with her fingers, and I shiver. "Where do I begin with how kind you are to me? I could go on forever about the many times you kept me company, but I need to get to my point."

She smiles at me. "Long story short, yes: the more I started to like you, the more I wanted us to be together. I had never met a guy who was so patient with me, especially considering the recent loss of my mother. I found you so comforting."

My heart is swollen. _I knew it. She does love me_.

"But up until yesterday afternoon, when we..." she hesitates, "...kissed, and you..." She looks down at her gelato. She doesn't finish. "We just can't, Rick. Neither of us are ready."

The cold returns to my body. Probably because she released my hand sometime during our conversation, probably because of what she just said. "I don't understand why you'd say that. I'm completely ready to move on with my life and finally take a chance at being happy."

Vivian squints at me. She looks like she's...appalled at what I just told her. "If you're really being honest with what you just said, that you truly don't understand why I'm telling you this, then I really don't think you're ready to be in another relationship."

The words she just said: they actually HURT me. Never would I imagine that Vivian would be the one...

"I'm sorry if that sounded harsh," She says immediately after, "but do you not understand how serious what you did was?"

"Of course I do!" I say. "I got carried away, and I'm sorry about it."

"What if that happens again, Rick? What if you keep getting carried away and apologize? What if you say it won't happen again, but you continue to lose control of yourself anyway?"

"I won't, Vivian." I say sternly. "Listen to me: if it meant getting myself beat up by Spinner, Jay, and Jimmy at the same time, I would do everything in my power to be with you and make sure that wouldn't happen again."

I notice Vivian biting her lip. She looks at me with a look of despair. _Vivian..._ "I wish I could believe you." She says.

The feeling of being stabbed in the heart returns. "Why don't you?" _I can't lose her. I won't lose her._

I move from my seat and come over to her side of the table. I watch her expression change from one of skeptical to that of bewilderment as I join her in the booth. "Please, Vivian." I hold out my hands, and she looks down at them before she slowly places hers in mine. Such warmth I feel radiating from them. "You're different than our classmates. You care. You're considerate of my feelings." I bring her hand close and kiss it delicately. "And you were always concerned about my well-being." I kiss her other hand. "I don't want to lose you, Vivian."

The tension between us is causing our hands to sweat. Upon recognition, Vivian withdraws hers, and I feel her warmth leaving me. She smiles nervously at me. "You won't lose me, Rick. We've been over this before." She looks down at her lap. "I don't see how you're still questioning me."

Every word stings, but I hear her out.

"Do you remember what you said to me that afternoon? You said that you have to keep me. What did you mean by that?"

I freeze. The entire time I had been traveling on adrenaline. Drunkenly I was exploring her body and only remember communicating with her with my lips over hers. In fact, if Vivian had never mentioned it, I would have never recalled saying it. But I do recall it, and I have to come up with an explanation for why I said it.

"I was so caught up in the moment, Vivian. I'm sorry if I offended you." It's pathetic, but better than nothing.

"It's more than that." Vivian stares down at her lap. Her eyes travel to another place. "The way you were sitting on top of me...I felt powerless over my own body, in my own home." She looks up at me. "You held me in a position where, whatever you might have wanted to do to me, I couldn't fight my way out of it if I tried." I can see fear in her eyes again, or apprehension at the very least.

I stiffen even more. _I _was_ holding her in place pretty firmly. It doesn't take much for someone her size to be overpowered I guess._ "You're right." I say. "I shouldn't have done that."

"Did...Did you...," Vivian hesitates, "were you the same way with your other girlfriends? Did you lose control of yourself in the spur of the moment?"

"Vivian," I take one of her hands with the two of mine, "this is nothing like before. I was driven by rage and the need to justify it even though my way of doing so was the wrong way to do it. With you last night, Vivian, my only intention was to show you how much I cared about you." I move one of my hands to the side of her smooth face. "That hasn't changed, Vivian." I brush my hand down her cheek. "I...I love you. I know it hasn't been that long since I met you, but it's true all the same." Saying it makes it all the more true.

I can feel her trembling as she stares wide-eyed at me. She opens her mouth, but no sound escapes.

"It's okay. I don't expect you to say it back." How badly I want to kiss her! "You just have to know that you were perfectly safe with me yesterday."

I watch her lip quiver. The thing that makes me feel the most remorse is seeing Vivian cry. I'll never forget the first time I saw her fall a part. I brought her into my house and learned the hard way that she lost her mother, and I impulsively massaged her shoulders. Poor Vivian: she had to be only thirteen when her mother died...

My lightbulb clicks. This is about her mother! Her death paralyzed her, and now she's afraid of losing someone else that's close to her. How did I miss this before?

"Rick..." she nearly chokes on my name. Her eyes glisten.

"Shhhh. It's okay. Don't cry." I place my hand on her small back and begin to rub her.

"I- I don't know if I'm ready...I really want to, but..." A tear rolls down her right cheek. Quickly she wipes it away as if she hadn't realized she was crying.

"C'mere." With the hand on her back, I bring her close to me and wrap my other arm around her. She hesitates before hugging me back and lying her head against my shoulder. I give her a firm squeeze, and she relaxes against me. _She smells so good..._ I smell her hair again and loose myself in her scent, fighting the strong urge to kiss her.

Instead I put my mouth against her ear. "I know that what's bothering you is something you're not telling me, Vivian. I'm here to listen, okay?" I rub her back again.

Vivian backs out of our hug."It's my mom, Rick."

"What is it? Are you still...traumatized by her death?"

"Unfortunately. Yeah." Vivian stares into space. "She...Rick, I don't understand why she..." Two more tears spill down her face. "I can't talk about this." A sob escapes her lips.

I put my hand on her shoulder. "Do you wanna go somewhere else to talk about it? We can go out to the car if you want."

She nods swiftly, wiping her tears away. "That would help."

With one hand on her back, I guide Vivian out of the cafe and towards my green little car in the parking lot. I head for the passenger door and help her climb in, then follow suit as I reach the driver's side.

I watch as Vivian wraps her arms around her legs, which are curled up against her, and rests her chin on top of her knees. "I'm really sorry that I'm out of it, Rick. This Edna's place was a great time, I promise." She looks over at me.

"All I care about is that you tell me what's hurting you." I hate seeing her in pain. Unlike me, Vivian doesn't deserve this suffering day after day.

Vivian hides her face in her lap for a few seconds before she sits up. She stares out of the dashboard. "You wanna know why we moved here from Chicago?"

I can feel my heart pounding. _She's going to open up to me!_ "Why?"

Vivian sighs before she continues. "You already guessed it: we couldn't continue living in a place where a wife and mother was no longer with us. Chicago was filled with her memories. Nothing was the same. Every place I knew became a spot filled with nothing but visions of her. She was so involved in Vince and I's lives that when she died..." she pauses, "it was like we fell from one hundred to zero."

She turns to face me. "We could have moved to any other place in the states. The most reasonable option in the country was to move to Rhode Island, closer to Vince's school so he wouldn't have to travel such a long distance home, but since my father's sales job has him moving around a lot, we chose to move here to Toronto. Usually whenever he travels, especially now, he's usually moving around the upper-east coast, so he's never away from home for more than two days at a time."

I thought I recognized the business attire that Mr. Graham always wore. My father is also a salesman, but he's never at home. I thank God for that everyday. "But couldn't you have stayed in the United States?"

"We could have," Vivian replies, "but that's part two of my story."

My heart beats faster. "There's more?"

"A lot more." Her body language is changing. She went from being withdrawn to comfortable, and now she's become tense. I notice her biting the left corner of her mouth, and her hands are squeezing her thighs. "We tried to make it work: living on without her. For about a year we lived our lives as normally as we could...well, for a family who lost one of its members. For most of my freshman year in high school I was fine; I mean I cried a lot, but who wouldn't after just losing her mom? But then in April earlier this year..."

She looks away from me. Her eyes go beyond the parking lot, beyond Edna's, beyond any time in the present.

"Vivian?" Wherever she is, the horror of it is petrifying her.

Suddenly her breathing becomes audible. Shaky. Rapid. She grabs the seat with a death grip.

"What's wrong? Vivian." Is she having a panic attack? I've never seen her like this before. "Vivian, look at me."

Just like that, she breaks down. "Why would she do that?! I don't understand why she would leave us like that!" She sobs violently: her shoulders shake, and her breathing is hitched.

My instincts possess me, and before I know it, I find myself climbing over the seat, taking Vivian in my arms and holding her in my lap.

"No." She struggles against me for a few seconds, but I hold her tight and press my cheek against her head. She finally caves and collapses against my chest, wrapping her arms around my middle. She squeezes me with such strength that it hurts, but I return it, being weary of hurting her.

Her sobs shake the both of us no matter how tightly I hold her in place. _She's had it rough too._ I can feel her warm, sticky tears soaking my shirt, and a thorn of remorse pierces me. It feels as if I somehow added on to her grief by simply existing. Me and my stupid reputation. _Why are you, sweet Vivian, of all people, suffering so horribly?_ I'm beginning to regret this entire idea of trying to win back Vivian's trust and pressuring her, now to the point of tears, into dating me.

_Stop whining, you stupid ass._

It's my internal voice. My conscience. The one that sounds like my father. He would say that to me if I complained too much about...well, anything.

_You have Vivian in your arms, now Take advantage of the situation._

And that's what I do. "It's alright, Vivian." I say gently and run my fingers through her big, bushy ponytail. I'm amazed at how soft it feels. Caressing her hair then turns into rocking her, squeezing her until she stops crying. Soon she becomes a relaxed body against mine, but I keep rubbing her back gradually. She's so warm! And soft. And, God, her hair! I bend my head and bury my face in her hair, inhaling her shampoo.

Before I can stop myself, I plant a long, delicate kiss on her soft tresses. Then I kiss her hair again. And again: the same way each time.

"I'm not finished." Vivian lifts her head up, and I see the tear stains trailing from her now red eyes. "I owe you a full explanation."

I squint. She's determined to tell me the truth. I'm surprised that she didn't back away from my kisses sooner. She doesn't even acknowledge that I even did it. "Your mom left you? Then she died? At least that's what I got before you broke down."

"No." Vivian shakes her head. "She...She had...there was a gun..." Again, her sight travels beyond the eye-can-see. "There was so much blood, Rick. I never knew that a person could bleed so much from just one wound!" She leans against my shoulder again. "She did it to herself, Rick! Herself!" She starts sobbing again. "I saw her there. I was the first to see her like that, and every time I close my eyes I still see her!"

I stiffen. It feels as if Jay punched me in the stomach. _ Her mom committed _suicide_?!_ How does Vivian have the motivation to stay on top of anything? And she's not angry or bitter at anyone? I may have hurt another person, and maybe I'm paying the price for it by returning to Degrassi, but Vivian has it a lot rougher, I think, than I do.

"Okay, I'm done crying about this." Vivian breaks away from me. "We made such a drastic change in location because I would continue to have nightmares about my mom bleeding to death. That's why I'm here."

She moves out of my lap. "It seemed to be working. Focusing on adjusting to a new life and learning the curriculum and meeting new people kept my mind preoccupied, but now they've come back, and worse than before."

"Vivian..." All of this is new information. "I'm sorry. That must have been awful to go through when you were only thirteen."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Vivian retorts. "Well, not anything related to my tragedy anyway. This year was supposed to be all about reclaiming my life. Owning what little control I had was so important to me, _is_ important to me, and when you decided to hold me down the way you did, Rick, you made me feel physically what I had been feeling emotionally since my nightmares returned: helpless." She stares at me with glaring eyes: full of pain and exhaustion.

I look at her, at a loss of words. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? I would have done anything to help you through your nightmares."

Vivian holds my shoulder. "There's nothing you can or could have done that would stop them. I just have to learn how to deal with them until they go away. I've been seeing Ms. Sauvé about them and listening to her advice. My dad wants me to see a psychiatrist about them, but I really don't want to."

She smiles at me. "Even though you can't help me at a professional level, doesn't mean you haven't been helpful at all. Thank you isn't enough to express how grateful I am that I have you as a friend, Rick. You're so patient and calm whenever I wig out, and you are always open for a hug whenever I need one. You're a good person, Rick, and you mean well; I would never think less of you, but right now I could use just a friend." She massages my shoulder. "I know we have been closer than that, but I really do need some space before I jump into something else that'll stress me out more, even if it would be good stress." She winks at me.

I give her a faint smile. My hopes of getting into a relationship with her (at least for now) have been sunk. But now I understand why she's afraid to get too close to anyone. Poor Vivian. How will she get herself out of this? Why would her mother all of sudden decide to kill herself? Maybe that's why Vivian is so crushed by her tragedy. "I understand." I force myself to say.

* * *

Vivian dozes off while I drive her back home, and I take the time to think about everything that happened between us this afternoon. _Vivian only said that she didn't want to be in a relationship right now. It doesn't mean that she doesn't like me_. I grow warm as I recall telling her that I loved her. Maybe she doesn't feel it as strongly as I do; maybe she's distanced herself from ever loving someone else so passionately because she's afraid of losing them too.

As I pull into the driveway of Vivian's house, she wakes up and unfastens her seat belt. "Rick?"

"Hmm?"

"Walk me to the door?"

"Of course." I climb out of the car and walk over to the passenger side to open Vivian's door.

She gently places her hand in mine as she climbs out of her seat, and I close the door behind her before we walk side by side, up the stairs to the patio, and in front of Vivian's front door.

"Is your dad home?" I ask her.

She shakes her head. "He won't be long though." She faces me. "Thanks so much for understanding what I'm going through. I hope you don't think I'm taking this out on you."

"Never." I reply.

"Can you promise something?" Vivian steps closer. She speaks so softly I almost miss it.

"Anything for you, m'lady." The blood runs cold through my veins.

"Don't wait for me."

"What?"

"Go on living your life." Vivian replies.

"I don't follow you." I say.

"I think you do." Vivian folds her arms across her chest. "Listen to me: I don't know when I'll be ready to take that next step, and I don't need you to put your life on hold just for me to do so. You also have so much stuff going on in your life, and you should really take this time to focus on that."

What she's saying...the way she's saying it..."Are you...breaking up with me?"

"Rick," Vivian looks away from me. "No, I can't do that...not if we weren't together to begin with."

She's stomping on my heart right now. "So yesterday with us..."

"-Was very special." She finishes. "Until...look, you're important to me, Rick, and like I said, that will never change, but I need you more as a friend right now than a boyfriend. That's not a bad thing."

I slide my hands in my pockets as they start to tremble. "It doesn't feel that way."

A look of remorse fills her eyes as she looks back at me. Then she starts to move closer to me, leaving no space in between us. She slides her finger underneath my chin, and holds my face in her soft hands.

And she kisses my lips.

Instantly I can taste the chocolate gelato lingering there from Edna's, and I cover her mouth with my own, wrapping my arms around her waist to devour her lips. One thing after another happens: Vivian's hands lock around my neck, then move into my hair. I give her hips a little squeeze, and I syncopate the rhythm of our kisses.

It's like last night all over again. Our conversation has been swept under the rug, and I'm lost in the world of Vivian's sweet lips. Each kiss weakens me bit by bit and fills my otherwise cold, hollow soul. My desire is being fueled, and the only thing passing through my mind is her name over and over again. My tongue soaks up the flavor of her lips as I open my mouth and let it glide over them. Vivian too opens her mouth, and I drown in her. The moment our tongues greet each other, I taste more of the gelato. Her breath breathes warmth into my body and, and I absorb the passion she's feeding into me.

After several seconds of holding lips, we release at the same time, and her warmth leaves me as abruptly as it came. "Please don't be sad." Vivian presses her forehead against mine. "I'll still help you get through Degrassi the way you're helping get through my grief, okay?" She wraps her arms around me in a tight embrace.

I hug her back. "I've been suffering for weeks. You're the only one that can help me through this."

"No I'm not." Vivian says in my ear. "You have your quiz mates on Whack-Your-Brain to talk to."

"It won't be the same."

"Again that's not necessarily a bad thing." Vivian replies. "You'll be great. Just hang in there." She rubs my back.

I step back and look down at her. I have never wanted a person so badly, yet my heart isn't completely broken. I can't be mad at her, not with the pain she's going through. "I'm so sorry about your mom, Vivian."

She shrugs. "I have to learn to live without her. Thanks for listening to me. Degrassi sucks sometimes, you know? They don't know how awesome you are, and it frustrates me. I know you can show people who you really are. All drama aside, you're easy to like. You deserve to feel like you're worthy of anything good that happens to you. Don't you EVER forget that."

I smile and nod. "Take care...m'lady."

She smiles back, her dark eyes twinkling. "You too. Drive safely."

"Will do." I wave at her. "Evening."

"Evening." She waves back.

I find it difficult to tear away from her lovely sight knowing that things won't escalate the way I wanted them to. _I still have her though. That's what matters most._

* * *

"Mother?" I call as I enter the house. "I'm back." I walk into the living room and drop my messenger bag on the couch in the living room. "Mother?" I move towards the kitchen.

"There you are."

I freeze. Definitely not the voice I want to hear. I turn to see my father emerging from his study.

"Lydia told me you stopped by Edna's on the way home." He continues. "Let me guess: you were with Vivian again."

Casually I slide my hands in my pockets. "I was. Where's mother?"

Father scoffs. "She went to the store. What's wrong? Not excited to see me?"

_Is that a trick question?_ "Usually you're not here on Thursdays."

"I'll take that as a no." He stands a side. "Vivian must be important to you like Terri was, but I can see why though. She's a lovely girl. How do girls like that stumble across someone like you?"

_Two can play at this game_. "I have no idea." I reply just as dryly, biting back any resentful remarks.

"Obviously." I hate how calm he is! "Come into the study with me. I need to talk to you about something: I think you know about the two missing wine coolers that I keep in the fridge."

_Shit_. I forgot to replace them after having a toast over at Toby's place. The air in the room becomes icy.

"If you cooperate, Richard, this will be done and over with quickly. Don't make me ask again."

I groan softly. "Fine." I say through gritted teeth.

My father doesn't take his beady eyes off me as I casually walk into his office. As he closes the door, I think of the one person who brings me happiness. _"You deserve to feel like you're worthy of anything good that happens to you. Don't you EVER forget that."_ "I don't deserve this, father. No one does." I say calmly.

He responds by laughing. "Are you trying to school me on beating innocent people? First if all, Richard, you take after me, and secondly, you are far from innocent." I watch as he moves to the wardrobe to remove one of his leather belts.

"The scars on my back have yet to heal." I try to negotiate.

"I know." He says. "I won't aim for your back. Just be quiet, cooperate, and it'll be over."

I have no choice but to give in to him. I'm glad I have the ability to retreat to Bliss Land every time I go through this.*

* * *

**Well...I decided to stick with Rick all the way through this chapter. Tell me what you think, and I'm a little humble when it comes to writing the kissing scenes. Let's just say this stuff doesn't happen to me in real life, ha ha! ^-^ I appreciate the reviews! Until next time!**


	25. Wide Awake, and Still at Degrassi

_**Hello, guys! I'm back with another installment. In case you were wondering, I have been making frequent edits with my older chapters, adjusting it according to the storyline that I'm constantly changing and editing. Thanks for sticking around and, once again, for having so much patience! Have fun!**_

* * *

_**Part II**_

**XXV. Wide Awake, and Still at Degrassi**

* * *

Monday- The Next Week.

4 Days until Whack-Your-Brain

* * *

_They wanted to put me in the honors program at my school. There are two of them: one for the junior high students in general, and one that's a little more prestigious for the eighth graders. Now that includes me! I realize that [insert name] will continue to call me "Vivi-midget", even more now since I'm an official geek, but that's perfectly fine by me: he'll be working for ME someday._

_Middle school ends before high school, so Vince is never home before I am, and dad is out of town for the next two days. I'll just call him later._

_But at least mom's home! Geesh, I have to tell someone right now!_

_Impatiently I'm waiting for this stupid bus to reach my house, heck, even the street so I can hurry home. I had been talking my family's ear off about this for about a week, and now they'll probably be more relieved than happy that I finally got what I had wanted for so long. I don't feel too bad about it though, if you compare me to Vince stressing out about Brown University. He decided to apply for early admission, and he won't let us forget how agonizing it is to fill out the common application on top of the application for the actual school he's applying for. Man, they make you work for that Ivy League status!_

_Finally the bus stops on my street, and I hurry off of it, swerving through the other kids. Now I'm starting to see the perks of being forever small: I can easily maneuver through a tight crowd. My mom calls this advantage my "magic petite powers". Who the heck would ever use that expression?_

_I walk down a peaceful block in a peaceful state of mind. A part from my classmates' playful screams echoing in the distance, my street is usually quiet. I wave at a little girl with ponytails jumping rope in the front yard at her house. "Hi!" She cries happily. I don't know her name; I just refer to her as the happy kid._

_We live in a pretty decent neighborhood; we're not in the city, but not exactly in the suburbs either. There's about an even mix between blacks and whites, and a Hispanic family or two in the neighborhood. For the most part, it's a safe place._

_I whistle the seven dwarfs' theme from Snow White as I half walk, half trot the short distance back to my house. I approach the glass screen door, which is usually unlocked at this time, and fish my key out of my pocket. I don't hesitate to open both doors and hurry in._

_I know the house inside and out; it's the only home I've ever known for thirteen years. My mom is usually in one of two places when I get here: the kitchen or the family room._

_But it's different this time around. My mind skips the routine two second search for my mom._

_I really don't know how long I stand staring at her slumped over in her usual chair. It could have been five seconds; thirty minutes; one hour. Or five. I'm waiting for her to lift her head up and notice me like she usually does. She would smile at me with her pearly white teeth, a beautiful contrast against her dark face._

_Now she has no face left. What's left of it is smothered in dark blood. What's supposed to be inside of my mom is now splattered behind her on the wall all over our family pictures like paint. It's drenched in her favorite chair, and dripping onto the floor drop by drop, forming a large, dark red puddle. Red. So much red. Red against the white walls. Red against the pastels in the chair._

_"Mom? I'm home." The last ounce of hope escapes me in those three words. Then I notice the smell. It's terrible...and overwhelming... and suffocating. [Describe the smell]._

My mom is dead._  
_

_The thought is a bull horn for the chain of appropriate reactions to follow, the ones appropriate for finding a dead body in your house. I begin to choke on the stench, and, after one massive wretch, I turn and puke all over the floor until there's nothing left in my stomach, standing on my hands and knees._

_Then comes the tidal wave of all the teenage emotions on steroids. I stare at my lifeless mother in the murky vision of my new tears. And I let out the loudest, ear- splitting scream that wrecks my own ears as well as my throat._

_"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"_

_Next thing I know, I'm straddling her, squeezing her shoulders, and heaving sobs into her bloodied blouse. These combinations of cries and screams come straight from my diaphragm. I can't stop myself. Part of me wishes that this is all one awful, horrifying nightmare. The other part of me, however,knows that this is all painfully, undeniably real. Time? What is that? I have a life? Since when? I have a father? Who is my brother? No, it's just me living through this tragic scene, soaking my mom in tears on top of the drying blood. I'm giving myself chest pains with my non- stop crying, and I breathe inconsistently, but I keep going, and I don't know what time is._

_She's dead._

_She's gone._

_She won't wake up._

_She'll never wake up._

_I feel my body being lifted and carried away from her. Like an infant, I scream for her even as I'm turned away from her sight. I'm being carried outside and out onto our front lawn, where flashes red and blue lights bounce off our house._

_Now I'm being set down on the grass, and the person who carried me out holds my face in his hands and has me look him in the eye. _Vince._ I do have a brother. He's telling me to look at him, but all I do is cry. Now he holds me close, and we both squeeze each other to the point of mild pain. I feel drops of warm liquid hitting me on the top of my head. He's crying too, but the sounds of my crying drown out any noise he's making. _She was Vince's mom too. WAS_. How can this world be real? A world without our mom? And so soon in our lives?_

_Finally I stop. It's not that I don't want to cry anymore; it's that I'm drained of the strength to continue. I cling to my older brother like glue. I won't let him leave. One tragic loss is enough for any family. I don't know if dad's here or not, and I'm terrified of being alone. The thought of becoming an orphan comes to mind, and I hold on to Vince tighter. My family can't separate! I need them!_

_"Vivian?"_

_I snap my head up at the sound of a smooth, female voice. It reminds me of my mom. She isn't dead?! Then my heart sinks again once I realize that it's a female paramedic. She asks me if I want to get cleaned up and put on some fresh clothes, but I respond by bursting into tears again. Vince says something to her, and next thing I know, Vince and I are walking side by side, following the paramedic._

_Then the second worst thing happens. Three coroners push out my mom's body, now covered in a baby blue sheet, out on a mobile flatbed. I lose control all over again and cry into Vince's shirt. He cries as well. Neither of us know what time is, and as I cry non-stop, uncontrollably, unaware of my father arriving at the scene, I don't care to understand what time is again._

* * *

You don't need to be asleep to remember something as traumatic as that. I remember every emotion I felt during that moment, every word exchanged, every subtle change of the temperature that evening. And the smell of my mother's body still makes me nauseous, leading me back to the last time I saw her.

"You okay?" Marco asks me. He and I are sitting on a bench outside of Principal Raditch's office waiting to discuss Alex's future on the student body. Based on the school guidelines, she received a suspension for punching Queenie. Since Queenie didn't get a lick in, she didn't receive any type of penalty. This would cost a student council member her position, but Marco and I are trying to convince Raditch that Alex is a huge asset to the council (aside from her endearing personality). I have to admit, she is good at being vice; things get done under her command.

I sigh. "I'm hanging in there."

"Ah, Vivi-G., I need you to be more than just you hanging in there." Marco says to me.

I slouch in my seat. "I'll try, but really, Marco, it's just one of those days."

"What's up?" He asks gently.

I look at him. Marco is easily the most approachable person to talk to if you're having a tough time. All he knows about me is that I moved to Toronto to start a clean slate. Why not tell him the rest?

"Marco," I pause, "remember when I told you that my family moved here so that we could start over?"

"You never told me why exactly." He finishes.

Here goes nothing. "Well...I lost my mom over two years ago, and we decided earlier this year to accept the fact that she isn't coming back."

"Oh." Wide brown eyes of empathy stare back at me.

"We moved just recently because of the trauma her death had been causing me."

"I'm sorry about that, Vivian." Marco says. "Do you mind if I ask how she died?"

"Not at all." I take a deep breath. "Suicide. There was a gun..." I grab my legs and bite my lip. "Sorry, it still hurts when I talk about it."

"Hey, hey," Marco stands up with open arms. "C'mere."

I follow suit and wrap my arms around him, accepting the hug that he's offering.

"You'll get through this, Vivi-G." Marco says cheerily, giving me a tight squeeze and a gentle pat on the back. "Let me know if you ever need anything."

My heart swells. "Don't ever stop calling me Vivi-G." _What a warm person._

"As you wish." Marco moves out of the hug. "I had no idea you were going through that."

"Well now you do." I smile. "And listen: I appreciate your concern, but I can still function normally and stay on top of everything."

"So I've seen." Marco says. "You're a strong gal. I hope you stay that way because I need a backbone to take on Raditch."

I smile. "I got you." I pat his shoulder. "Thanks for listening to me, Marco. That means a lot."

"No prob." He winks at me.

The door to Raditch's office opens, and out pops the man himself. "Marco. Vivian. I'm ready to see you now." He moves back inside, leaving his door open.

Marco faces me. "Game time." He says.

"Yep."

I follow him into Raditch's office for the second time this year. It's a secluded, peaceful place, a stark contrast from the ruckus of a hallway just outside.

"Feel free to sit." He indicates a set of chairs in front of his desk with a nod of his head.

In an uncomfortable silence, we do just that.

"Ms. Hatzilakos informed me that the two of you think that Alex should have her position back as Vice President on the Student Council. Correct?"

"Yes we do, sir." Marco replies. "Alex has contributed a lot to the student body. None of this stuff for Whack-Your-Brain would have never happened if she hadn't been on the council to get things done."

"Well that's already set in stone to happen this Friday." Raditch says. "Whatever else you need to get done shouldn't be much trouble if you appoint a new vice president."

"I beg to differ, sir, but Alex is the best candidate to fill that position." Marco argues.

"He's right." I chime in. "Alex is...a realist, and very assertive. She plans practically and is best at thinking of all of the details of an idea that other students forget about, including Marco." I'm surprised at how easy it is for me to pull out a compliment about Alex.

"I'm positive that the two of you will find someone else just as qualified, and more responsible at that, to replace her." Raditch replies.

"Mr. Raditch, we only have a few days until the quiz bowl, and that's the time it'll take us at _least_ to replace Alex." I say.

"Really? You don't think you can replace her, Vivian?"

I freeze. "Um...I...haven't really thought about being vice." I say quietly.

"Obviously you're not Alex, but you're just as responsible as she is, and, considering that you two aren't suspended from breaking a serious rule, you show better moral character."

"Sir, I need Vivian as the secretary." Marco says. "Heather Sinclair dropped remember?"

"It should be less of a hassle to replace secretary then. Why not have Ms. Graham as your close partner?"

"I like my position, sir." I say.

"And being secretary is one of the most tedious positions on the entire board of executives." Marco adds. "Vivian has proved herself a thousand times over that she is best person for _that_ position."

"Please, Mr. Raditch. We need to have Alex back. At least until the quiz bowl is over, and then we can replace her?" I say in a desperate attempt to shift the conversation away from myself.

I see Marco out of my peripheral staring at me, but I continue to face our principal. I was warned by Marco earlier about how hard it is to get through to him, and now I can see why: he's a brick wall. If he didn't listen to Alex and Marco earlier about Rick, and denied Rick any help about bullies, what's to say he'll be any different with us and Alex's predicament?

Mr. Raditch sits back in his chair. "The two of you seem to know your council really well. That means your positions were well chosen. Listen: I can't make any excuses for Alex for a rule that she had deliberately broken just because she can do the job, but, Vivian, you're right. I do imagine you have to cautiously select a well-qualified replacement, and-given our limited time frame-that isn't possible to do just now." He sits up straight again. "Alex has until next Monday to be Vice President, and in this next week, I suggest you start finding the second best person for the job."

I look at Marco, who looks like he wants to collapse. _Did he just compromise with us?_ "Oh...sir, you have no idea how thankful we are for this. You won't be disappointed I promise."

"Thank you, Mr. Raditch." I say simply.

"You're welcome." He says firmly. "Is that all you wanted to see me for?"

"That was it." Marco replies.

"Well then, off you go." He stands from his chair. "Best of luck with the last minute preparations."

We follow suit. "Thank you." I say.

Raditch opens the door. "Come back if anything else comes up."

"Absolutely." Marco says as we exit.

As soon as Raditch closes the door, Marco smiles at me wide-eyed and open-mouthed. "You did it!" He cries in a whisper and hops up and down. "I don't know how you did it, but you are so going to be my negotiating buddy from now on."

I shove my hands in the pockets of my jogging pants. "It was just a suggestion. I didn't think he'd go with it."

"So we're just gonna go along with it." Marco sighs. "I did not expect for that to go so well, especially when I went with Alex to talk about Rick." He shakes his head. "Anyway, you rock, Vivi-G!"

I smile, relieved that he didn't linger on the Rick topic. "Think nothin' of it."

"Where are you headed right now?" He asks me.

"To Snake's class." I respond. "But I have some additional time to go to my locker first."

"Oh okay. I will meet up with you later then." Marco says. "Until then?"

"Yep." I reply. "See you later."

"See ya." Marco disappears in the restless crowd of students as we head into the lobby while I make my way to my locker in the grade 10 corridor. I've been so accustomed to the Canadian lingo that I don't even think about the word "sophomore" anymore. It's rather frightening.

As I fiddle with the combination on my locker, a familiar voice goes, "Hey, Vivian." A female voice.

I whip around and find Ivory standing behind me. As usual, she has a striking appearance with her strawberry blonde hair and her wide, bright green eyes. She's wearing a denim jacket with matching pants and a yellow t-shirt underneath.

I'm so stunned by her approach I mechanically return the "hey" she gave me. I turn around to fully face her.

"We kinda ended on a bad note last week," Ivory says, "and I wanna apologize for that."

_She wants to do WHAT?_ "I agree. I wish we had at least resolved the disagreement we had."

"Me too." She says. "I had a bad history with Rick, and I took it out on you. It wasn't really fair of me."

"I really am sorry that you had to go through that." I say, "but I'm so glad you didn't end up like Terri at the same time."

"I know you are." Ivory says to me. "I keep forgetting that you have a big heart and that you always have good intentions. I guess part of me was blind-sided: I thought that being friends with Rick was a way of you trying to mock me somehow, like what he did before just isn't important anymore."

"What? No way!" I say. "I wouldn't even bother to hang out with him if that were the case! If he was still the same way, but he isn't."

"I can see that now." Ivory says. "So...are the two of you...?"

"_Just_ friends." I finish. "After all: hardly anyone wants to associate themselves with Rick, let alone be his friend."

"Touche." Ivory says. "I'm really sorry, Vivian. Really."

"I know." I say. "I don't blame you really. How can I? I wasn't around before."

"Neither is the Rick I used to know, it seems." Ivory sighs.

"Hey: last I checked, that's a good thing." I say.

There's a brief pause between us as we look at each other awkwardly-until Ivory smiles at me. It's the most refreshing, reassuring smile that I have ever seen on her, let alone the fact that it's been been over a week since I've seen her smile last.

"You know, we ought to catch up with each other. There's a lot that's happened between now and when we stopped speaking to each other." I say, returning the smile.

"Agreed." Ivory says. "I'm listening all the way."

It gets easier as I go along. I tell one more friend about my mother and her death, which is a lot easier than I had anticipated. It's starting to feel like a weight is being lifted off my shoulders, and as I tell Ivory, I watch her wide green eyes fill with sorrow and sympathy.

"It's so terrible that you had to go through that. I had no idea that that was the reason why you're here..." Ivory fumbles with her words. "I feel like such an idiot."

"That's not necessary at all." I say. "The last thing I need right now is for anyone to feel guilty about my problems. This is not your fault."

Ivory nods. "Okay. I'm still sorry that it happened. That's...I can't imagine losing anyone like that. You had me fooled."

"That was the point." I say. "I didn't want anyone to know until I was ready to tell them."

"I wouldn't know what to do if I were you." My friend continues.

"Slowly and painfully, I'm beginning to accept what she did." I say. "For a long time I was in denial. I mean, it just didn't seem like her to kill herself. Regardless, the police investigated and confirmed it." I don't think I'll ever be able to erase finding my mom dead in her favorite chair. Ever.

"Look, Vivian, I need to go to class." Ivory says. "How about we meet up after school by the bus stop and head over to the Dot?"

I nod. "Great idea." Seriously: those milkshakes are just too delicious to pass up.

"Cool. I'll see you then for sure." Ivory walks faster ahead and disappears in the crowd of students.

"See ya." I call after her before making a beeline for the lockers myself. I was able to get out of gym class thanks to Marco and our student council duties, and I wish it bled into Snake's M.I. class since my assigned seating is next to Rick. Since Thursday, conversation between Rick and I has been excruciatingly painful as classes the following Friday proved. As I pull out my notebook for the class, I think of ways to pretend he's not there. We're so close that any conversation can transform into something uber-personal, and I don't want that "personal" to be what happened between us that Thursday afternoon. The one thing we don't share is Whack-Your-Brain: Rick is heavily involved with Degrassi's Trivia Team, and since his teammates are sticking around (except Heather Sinclair; I hardly ever see her at school), he has made some new friends, friends that I don't hang around as often as with Queenie, Ivory, and Manny.

_Queenie!_ That confrontation with her and Alex also happened that Thursday. _I'm in the middle of some crazy stuff. As if my own problems weren't enough already!_ I need to talk to her about what happened. Is there a smooth way to even bring up the fact that she was wearing a wig? _Guess not._

As I slam my locker door, I look up as I feel something brush past me. My heart freezes as I see Rick heading in the direction of Snake's class. For the first time ever, it feels as if I'm actually attending Degrassi and not dreaming about it. It's going to be a long day.


	26. Long Live the Queen

**XXVI. Long Live the Queen**

* * *

Monday

4 Days until Whack-Your-Brain

* * *

_17 October 2004_

_I saw her on my way to M.I. this morning. _

_The feeling's different; seeing her causes me pain; disappointment. Even a little bitterness. I don't dislike her, but when I think of what we could have been, what we had the potential to be, there's a baseball bat bashing my heart in. But I have things to do. I can't let this affect me. Whack-Your-Brain is Friday, so I need to focus on that._

* * *

I alternate my eyes between the computer screen and my notebook, and I don't dare let my eyes stray to the right. Every now and again I see her out of my peripheral vision glancing at me, as if she wants to talk to me, but she doesn't call my name or tap my shoulder to do so. Is she hesitant to talk to me as well? Mr. Simpson assigned seating based on where we sat the first week of classes (when I wasn't here), and the only seat that was open when I arrived was the one next to Vivian. It feels like that time again: when I was in the class for the first time and sitting next to the new girl, who didn't know about me at all, we just sat in silence. I kept my head held down to avoid any dirty looks from classmates who weren't happy to see me. She was included. I didn't know her, and I couldn't remember seeing her in previous years, but I wasn't going to take any chances of making a new enemy, so I avoided her gaze.

Now, however, the circumstances are drastically different. I know Vivian all too well-better than I would have ever imagined, but now we've sort of ended on a dull note, and conversation since then has been difficult for the both of us. The results? We've drifted a part this past weekend. I haven't called her to check up on her concussion the way I have been all last week. A week. Our connection grew strong since last Monday when I nearly had a stroke over Vivian falling into that well; thinking that she was dead; rejoicing when I found out she was okay; and holding her later that evening while she slept. In a week my yearning for a relationship with her yawned across the horizon. In a week, I learned something horrible about Vivian's past. In a week, Vivian was willing to go there with me, but then retreated into herself. Succumbed herself to doubt and distrust. In a week, in just one week, she went from accepting me to fearing me-like everyone else at this stupid school.

"Rick."

I look up at the sound of Simpson's voice. "Sir?"

"Partner up with someone. Or two. We're assigning presentation groups."

I nod. I look around and notice everyone gathering in groups of two or three. Vivian has disappeared; her seat is empty beside me, and I look up to see her teaming up with Ivory. _The only one missing from that group is Terri._

"Rick. Teammates?"

I look behind me to see Toby Isaacs. It's a comfort having him around, and I smile back. "Yeah. A third person?"

"Hey." Emma walks over to Toby. "I guess there's three of us?" She nods in my direction.

"Looks like it." Toby responds.

"Okay then. Let's work over here." I follow Toby and Emma to an open table, free of any computers and hard drives.

"We're getting used to each other's company, it seems." I say.

Emma looks in my direction. "You could say that. It's become the norm basically."

I would have denied such a thing just over a month ago. Emma was the driving force of the tidal wave of hatred that I'm _still_ suffering from. The important thing is that she's no longer apart of it. No, more than that: she's actually on my side. _My_ side. The only person who was nice to me from the beginning was Vivian...

_Dammit! I need to stop thinking about her!_ I shake my head.

"You okay, man?" Toby looks at me with one of his dark eyebrows arched.

"Yeah. Just had a thought." I reply.

"Hey guys," Emma looks up from her notebook, "I think we should stay after school everyday to prepare ourselves for the finals on Friday."

"Good point." Toby says. "I still can't get all of those geography questions. There's so many!"

"Yeah, those answers can get jumbled in your head." I add.

Toby scoffs. "Please. You know them better than any of us."

"He knows all of the categories best." Emma says.

I chuckle. "Just trying to make you feel better about it." _Although they're both right: I'm solid for the most part_. Bet no one has ever read so much because they hardly have anyone to talk to.

"So after school then?" Emma says.

"Definitely." Toby replies.

"Sure." I say.

"How many of us wanna bet that Heather Sinclair won't be there?" Toby says.

"Miss _all_ of the meetings?" Emma asks.

"Ah, she might make it to at least one." I say.

"How are you so certain about that?" Toby says.

"I'm not." I say, "but sometimes Heather can surprise you."

Both Toby and Emma laugh at this. I don't think I've ever seen Emma laugh _ever_, let alone having me being the reason that she's laughing. I start to smile. Maybe Degrassi won't be so bad now.

* * *

There was a time when I was utterly terrified of my three main nemeses at Degrassi, times when I could feel my stomach lodged in my throat. It was like I was at home alone with my father and terrified with what he was going to do to me. Honestly there were times when I thought that man would kill me. Jay, Jimmy and Spinner (especially Jay) gave me that same terror. Somehow I've gotten used to it, and it only turned into misery. Although I've rehearsed myself to be calm around them, told myself that they were just stupid kids and too afraid to go to real prison to do anything severe to me, it's still a horrible feeling. Every time I think I see any of them, I immediately change my route to avoid even eye-contact. Even if I realize that it was a mistaken identity at the last second, I still follow through with the detour. The humiliation and pain isn't worth it. I'm not taking any chances.

I've grown used to them now. In some twisted way, it's not a normal day if I'm not running away from them, if I either don't see them or don't have a violent encounter with one of the three. Jimmy gives me threatening looks and occasionally bumps into my shoulder; Spinner likes to yell taunts at me in the halls, which always triggers a giggle out of at least a couple of students; and Jay does all of the above. Maybe my avoiding them is seen as cowardly, but when there are times when I just can't escape the torment (Spinner and Jay take it upon themselves to "escort" me to class, crowding either side of me), I remain as calm as possible.

Today I'm reminded of them as I reach my locker. One of them left me a taped-on note:

_Stop stalking girls psycho. _

Idiot didn't even put a comma between "girls" and "psycho". Sighing angrily, I rip the note from my locker and throw it on the floor. A new storm of fury is brewing within me. It's not enough that they push me around. Now they go out of their way to write notes and hang them on my locker? They took the time to find out where my locker _is_? Now I can no longer get my books in a calm state-of-mind. Wherever I go, they follow. They won't stop their little war unless I leave. They take for granted that I'm the guy who won't retaliate because it'll backfire on my reputation that I'm working hard to reconstruct.

_Nothing's changing with them. _The thought lingers as I take my supplies from my locker. _Something has to be done. I can prove all I want that I'm a decent guy, but they'll never see it. They don't want to see it. They don't care to see it._

Bastards think they can get away with anything just because this school is against me. That's going to change. Real soon. I've learned a thing or two from my merciless father. I know how to be ruthless. Being the impartial guy has only gotten me into this mess, and now I need to climb out of it. Rick Murray can bite when he wants to.

_Now who could have written this?_ I hold the note in my hand as I go to my pre-calculus class. I would put all of my eggs in one basket and gamble on Jay Hogart. I have never hated a guy so much like this one. He's just _sick_. He has no soul, and doesn't give a damn, yet people give _me_ a hard time trying to make a comeback. Degrassi's morals are seriously twisted._ And what he tried to do to Vivian...that son-of-a-bitch_. Everyone thinks _I'm_ the bad guy? Yeah, I was pretty sick and angry once-upon-a-time, but I have never, _ever_, tried to force myself onto anyone. _It doesn't even matter anymore; Jay has proved himself over and over that he's my least favorite person. It doesn't matter if he actually wrote it; it's high time he pay the price for messing with me over and over again._ _And the ones I care about, for that matter._

"Hey. Rick."

I recognize this voice, but barely. As I turn to my right, I spot Queenie, Vivian's friend, approaching. She's wearing a blue winter hat with pink hearts on it, covering her hairless head. Shockingly the look suits her.

"Hey." I say. "Looking for Vivian?"

"I was looking for _you_ actually." She replies. "I need to talk to you."

_What for?_ "Uh...right now? I have a class to get to."

"No shit, Sherlock." She says. "I do too. Your Pre-calculus class is in the same hallway as my algebra class. Now let's get going. Ever heard of multi-tasking?"

"Um, okay." Side by side, Queenie and I walk to the math hallway. "Everything okay? That thing that happened Thursday..."

"Yeah that was kind of what I wanted to talk about." She replies.

"W-with me? Don't you usually talk to Vivian about these things?"

"Do you tell the people you care about _everything_ you're going through, or are there secrets about you that they don't know?"

She has my attention now. And my curiosity. "What is it?"

"It's about the situation regarding my hair." She replies. "In case you haven't noticed already, I'm bald. Recently I decided to shave my head."

"How recent was this?"

"About a month ago."

"A month?" That means that sometime between when I came back and throughout all of the protesting that went on, she actually had hair on her head and not a wig that looked like it. "Why did you do it? Or to be specific, why cover it up if you were going to do it?"

She faces me. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay then. So...", Queenie glances around as if she's afraid of someone else approaching us. _Try being me for a day. _"the truth is that I'm...I-I'm sick."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...", she hesitates, "I don't have a lot of time to live." She lowers her voice so significantly that if I back away just an inch, I wouldn't be able to hear her. She suddenly stops walking, and I do too. "I've... had cancer for a while now, and since I was diagnosed with it, I've been told by doctors that it's way too late to...to do anything about it. Except receive medication for it to be less painful."

There's a somber look on her face that I've never seen before. It isn't the Queenie I'm used to seeing. She's usually chipper about something, anything, and to see her like this...scowling, sorrowful...it's making my blood run cold.

I let the words sink in for a few seconds. "I'm so sorry." I say at last. "I had no idea you were ill. Do you need anything? Anything at all?"

"My god, Rick, it's not like I just found this out today. I'm fine like I always am!" Queenie chuckles, regaining her usual, cheerful composure again. "But thanks though."

"When did you learn that you were..." I stop speaking. It's hard to swallow that a classmate of mine is slowly dying. She had never given anything away to let anyone know that she was going through this the entire time.

"I found out over the summer right after the last school year." She replies. "My family and I, as a result, went on several vacation trips these past three months. Sure it was all so fun and adventurous and beautiful, but the fact that my family is _never_ the type to spend that much bonding time with each other made it feel so weird. Obviously they're trying to make the most of my time before I eventually... die from this, but still..." She shakes her head.

I had never seen someone so easily talk about their death in the near future. She must be used to living with the news. How in the world is she able to stay so cheerful and keep something like that hidden from everyone else? My life may be crappy, but at least I have a long life to live. At least I will be able to graduate high school and make it to college and get away from this home-school-double-hell I live through everyday. But Queenie? Poor Queenie.

"I'm waiting on you to ask the most obvious question." She says.

"What?"

"Oh, don't play dumb: you wanna ask how long I have to live." She continues. "Well I'll tell you just to get it over with." Again another pause. This time it's longer. It almost reminds me of Vivian before she broke down in my car last Thursday. "The doctors say that I'm lucky if I get to see Christmas."

The blood is ice streaming through my veins. This Christmas is a miracle for her to see? All of this is news to me. That means that everyday she comes to school is a lucky day for her and her family. Lucky for her friends that get to see her.

"Queenie..." I say. "I'm sorry."

"You already said that." She replies. "Plus, you have no reason to be sorry. You didn't do anything to cause this."

"Well neither did you." I chuckle uncomfortably. "Queenie, I don't understand how you're not devastated over this."

"Uh...Rick, you do know that I had the whole summer to live with this, right?" We walk over to the doorway of my pre-calculus class. "Don't you need to get to class?"

"Forget class right now. What about you? Is there anything else you want to tell me about?"

"Yeah. There's something else."

"What is it?"

"Your reaction to my news is more difficult to handle than my knowledge of dying in a few months."

I squint at her. "What?"

"I'm serious!" She says while laughing. "I would have never thought you were capable of being so sweet and empathetic just last year. Geez, you are different."

"You had doubts?" I ask. "Then again, you'd be like everyone else."

"Honestly, yeah." She replies. "I mean Vivian would mention you in a conversation once in a while about how sweet you were, but I thought she was just being naive because she was new." She looks at me and sighs. "You should hear how she talks about you sometimes. She was saying things that would have _never_ come out of my mouth. I remember your arrogant ass in theater class last year." She laughs at this. "But seeing your concern now makes me believe it more."

I roll my eyes. "So you haven't told her?"

She shakes her head. "You know she's already grieving right now? How could I add this on top of all of that pain she's already going through? I still don't know what I'm going to do...how I'm going to tell her about this..."

Her voice quivers at the end, and I look up to see her wiping a tear away from her eye. I stare uncomfortably. This is strange seeing a bubbly girl appear so devastated. "Dammit! I've been so good at not crying about this until now. I hate seeing her upset about anything. You know best where I'm coming from, right?"

I nod slowly. "I do."

"Good." She says. "I need your help in covering for me. Please, Rick: whatever you do, do NOT tell Vivian the truth if she just happens to ask you what's up with me!"

"Okay: I won't." I say. "But why are you telling _me_ this?"

"Because you're way too smart for me to lie to. I knew that even if I did tell you a lie, you would suspect otherwise, and probably tell Vivian about the doubts you have. I can't risk that."

"Should I take that as a compliment?" I smirk.

"Shut up." Queenie playfully punches me in the arm. "So if Vivian asks you about me, you tell her that I lost a bet and had to shave my head, and I regretted the bald look, so I wore a wig to cover it up."

"Sure." I say. "What bet?"

"A bet that I had with my sister." She replies. "It was on a high school basketball game out of town. I bet on a team, and she bet on another team, and she won." She glares at me. "Got it?"

"Got it." I reply.

"Good." She smiles for the first time during the conversation. "Thanks a lot, Rick. You have no idea how much this means to me." She moves in for a hug, throwing me off-guard, but I hug her back anyway. "Would you have been able to predict this last year?"

"Nope." We let go. "We were two different people."

"We still are," Queenie replies, "but we share a common friend. I can't imagine anyone else who has been as sweet and wonderful as Vivian has."

My heart sinks at the mention of Vivian. _Me neither._

"Okay: be gone." She shoos me away. "Don't be late for class. I don't need you anymore. Just remember what to say to Vivian in case she asks."

"I will." I wave at her. "Until we meet again?"

"Enjoy my presence while you still can." Queenie turns and walks into the neighboring classroom.

Her words strike a chord, and suddenly I'm cold inside. Just now I'm beginning to feel the weight of this secret, and how important it is to keep it.

_Oh well. It's not like I don't have my own secrets. I have yet to confide in anyone.*_

* * *

**Soo glad I got the chance to publish this! Happy belated Halloween, everyone!**


	27. Skeletons

_ Dear Readers: the description for this story is about to become relevant. Enjoy.  
_

**XXVII. Skeletons  
**

* * *

Tuesday

3 Days until Whack-Your-Brain

* * *

**Dream Recap:**

_Nightime. Mommy and Daddy are asleep, right? Usually they are at this time. Late night cartoons await! They show more of the adult stuff at night, the things that the older kids watch, and that my parents won't allow me to. Please. Being eight is NOT a baby age! I'm not four!_

_I step lightly out of bed and walk quietly down the stairs, one baby step at a time. I'm trying to watch Sailor Moon at midnight, which comes on in five minutes, and it's one of those teenage shows, but while I was at Fern's house last weekend, her older sister and us watched it._

_I've made it down the stairs without making a sound. Victory is (almost) mine! I creep across the floor of the living room and head for the sofa, only to hear footsteps coming from the kitchen. Oh, no. My parents aren't supposed to be awake! They have to get up early tomorrow and run errands. But it's only Vince that comes out of the kitchen, and he jumps when he sees me._

"_Vivian!" he's a sharp whisper in the dark. "What are you doing up?"_

"_What are YOU doing up?" I fire the question back._

"_Stop acting like a baby." He says._

_I wish he can see me smiling in the dark. "Okay, okay." I whisper back. "I won't tell if you tell."_

"_Deal." Vince holds out his hand and I shake it. "Well, I guess I'll tell you why I'm down here to stop this stupid argument. I'm looking for something in the basement."_

"_Looking for what?" I press._

"_Why do you care?" Vince walks over to the wall and dimly lights up the living room space. "You're trying to watch Sailor Moon. Aren't I right?"_

"_How did you know?" I say. And how is it that he's always one step ahead of me?_

"_It doesn't matter." Vince replies. "Anyway, you want to come with me?"_

"_But...Sailor Moon is about to start." I protest._

"_Vivian, come on." Vince grabs my arm. "This won't take long. You'll only miss the theme song."_

_I moan. "Oh, okay."_

"_Shh!" Vince says. "Did you forget that mom and dad are sleeping?"_

_Like magic, we're in the basement (there's no scene that shows us actually walking down the stairs: we're just there). In the far corner of the room lies a huge black trunk._

_I slide my finger over the lid. "It's so dusty." I complain._

"_Well yeah." Vince says. "It's been here forever." he lifts up the latches holding the lid down and lifts it up, sending with it a cloud a dust. "See that?" he points into the trunk. _

"_I do." I reply although I don't see anything._

"_Weird isn't it?"_

"_Yeah."_

* * *

"So that's what happened to you." This explains Queenie's new look unknown to the Degrassi population until now. My friend told me everything: how she and Diane are both passionate about high school basketball (something I never knew before now); and how they both gambled on which of the two teams would win (man the stakes were high!). "You were that embarrassed by it that you never mentioned a word of it to me?"

"Hey people think that I'm already strange enough!" She cries. "I couldn't be weird _and_ bald! You would've probably avoided me like the plague!"

"Glad you think I'd be so shallow." I roll my eyes. "You're one of a kind, Queenie. I hope you know that, without being your friend, my experience at Degrassi would have been a lot more depressing." I reach for one of her hands, and she holds on to it.

"You're adorable, Vivian," She replies, "but I'm glad that I've been able to help you out with everything that you're going through...somewhat." She giggles.

We're sitting outside at one of the picnic tables for lunch since today's weather is unusually beautiful. Well...for a Canadian October anyway. We're both eating tuna sandwiches; leftovers from what dad and I had last night (courtesy of _moi_). As soon as I offered my additional sandwich to Queenie, she rejoiced; anything, she said, was better than the "crap" that we're served for lunch.

"Speaking of friends," Queenie continues, "have you spoken to Rick lately?"

I shrug. "Not really. Apart from a 'hey' every once in a while, we haven't really hung out since last Thursday." I bite into my sandwich awkwardly.

"Sensitive topic?" My friend observes. "I won't mention him again."

"No big deal." I say.

"But...I'm really curious though." She says hesitantly, her voice softer.

I snap my head up as kids at the table in front of us squeal over something in a magazine. "What is it?" I return my focus to Queenie.

"Rick has also been a really good friend to you. Would you have still been more depressed if it were just you and him? And not me?"

"Huh? Yeah sure. I mean, no, I guess not if I had only met Rick—and Ivory for that matter—and not you. It sure would have been a LOT more stressful if I didn't have you to talk to about it though. Being friends with him has been so _difficult_ with everyone around us hating him so badly. I don't think I could have handled all of that pressure on my own. I would have broken a long time ago."

"Huh. I see." She says.

I tilt my head. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason." She replies. "So what's the status regarding you two? You seemed like you were going to be a thing."

"Not really." I reply instantly.

"Still because of last week?"

I sigh. "I can't get what happened out of my head."

"He's not Jay, Vivian."

"I know." I snap. "That doesn't make what he did any better."

Now Queenie sighs. "Look, I know this is none of my business, but at least still be his friend."

"I never stopped being friends with him." I argue.

"Okay then." Queenie says. "So...is Vince coming home soon? He usually comes home for the breaks right?"

"Yeah he does." I answer, relieved at the change of subject. "He's actually going to be here Wednesday evening."

"Exciting!" My friend says. "Mind if you invite me over? I'd love to play cards with that guy again."

I smile. "I'd love for you to play with him too."

"Hey, guys." Liberty Van Zandt joins our table. "Vivian, I was actually looking for you. Do you know when the next time that Student Council is accepting applications? I didn't know that they took more than just Niners at the beginning of the year."

I smile at her. "That usually happens at the end of every school year for upperclassmen. I was an exception since I just transferred in."

Liberty sighs. It's just one of those days apparently. "I'll surely be busy before then. Oh well, I'll find another organization that will appreciate my talents."

"I'm sorry." I say. "If it were up to me, I would offer them once a semester."

"Vote Vivian for Student Council President." Liberty says as she stands up. "Farewell." She nods at Queenie before going.

"I second it." Queenie grins at me.

I playfully shove her. "Stoppit." I chuckle. "I don't know how Marco keeps up with arranging everything. I just help him out whenever he needs it, like when we needed to see Raditch about Alex's position as Vice President."

Queenie cringes. "I can only imagine that _that_ didn't go too well."

"It actually went better than expected." I explain the negotiation that I initiated with Raditch about the older girl remaining in her position until the end of Whack-Your-Brain.

"Do you think you'd go for it?" Queenie asks, her face beaming. "That would be so awesome!"

"Ayyy..." I respond. "Not right now...I'm just— "

"Blah, blah, blah with the excuses already. Just go for it, girl. You'd be great. It's so typical for the girl to just be the secretary. Not that it isn't an important job, but still, if I were you..."

"You could have applied for student council too you know!" I say. "Well I guess as a freshman. Why didn't you?"

She looks at me, looking visibly hurt. It's like I slapped her. "I think we had this conversation before. I'm not really into the popularity contest thing." She smiles again, like nothing had happened. "Not that I think you're shallow or anything. You and your awesomeness."

"You alright, Queenie?" I ask just like that.

"Phenomenal." She winks at me. "Seriously. I'm fine." She pats my shoulder.

I smile at her. "Good."

"Love you, girl." She says.

I squint at her although I'm still smiling. "Uh...love you too?" _You strange, bubbly girl._

* * *

"I should call Queenie and tell her right now that you're here." I say as I walk in the house after Vince. Before I can even reach down in my purse for my key, he opens the door with the goofiest grin on his face. "Why the early arrival? I know you have a class right now."

"Well we don't have any major tests or assignments do, so I thought I'd bail early." My brother explains. "I can make up class later. I'm just ready to be lazy for once."

This is the perfect opportunity to ask him about this dream I've been having. "Vince, are you settled in? I need to talk to you about something."

Vince sighs. "I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that it's about those crazy dreams you've been having."

I roll my eyes. "Are you gonna take me seriously or what?" _Dang he's good._

"I'm gonna go with the 'or what'." My Smart Alec brother replies. "Of course I'm listening to you!"

"Then stop joking about this!" I raise my voice.

"Viv", Vince rests a hand on my shoulder, "I'm on your side, alright? Remember I was there too. Sometimes it just helps to be light-hearted when it comes to talking about it, you know?"

I look down at the carpet. "It's still too soon for me to do that."

"Come on; let's sit down." Vince, his hand still on my shoulder, walks us over to the living room couch. "What's wrong?"

"There's not really anything wrong, but there's this trunk I keep seeing in one of my dreams...you and I, as little kids—eight and twelve—go down to the basement to look for it, then we find it and open it up, but there's nothing inside of it."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"I don't know!" I say. "But I keep having dreams about it."

"Therefore you think it's important in some way." Vince concludes.

"Do you remember anything about a trunk that we had once-upon-a-time that would be so relevant it keeps revisiting me in my dreams?" I ask.

Vince stares past me, squinting. "I...don't think so...maybe—oh ! I remember as a little kid, back when you were an infant, I would go touching a black trunk up in the attic, but then dad caught me, and...now I'm scarred for life." He rubs the side of his face with his hand. "Man he hit hard."

My heart jolts out of my chest. _He knows something!_ "What trunk!? Where? You said the attic? Vince, that's so helpful! Why did dad keep you from seeing it?"

He shrugs. "I don't remember why exactly. I just remember him, after he hit me, scolding at the top of his voice, _'Don't EVER touch that trunk again! You hear me?!'_ After that I was too afraid to even go up in the attic, let alone revisit the trunk." He tilts his head. "Excited much?"

"Uh, yeah!" I elbow my brother. "Finally I'm getting somewhere with this! Sorry that dad hit you for it, but there has to be something inside of it that he wanted to keep away from us."

"How about _wants_ to keep away from us?" Vince argues. "I don't think it's wise to be openin' closed doors, especially after mom's death."

"Since when are _you_ one to follow our parents' rules? Most of the times I got in trouble I was doing something that _you_ instigated in the first place!" I stick my tongue out like the mature fifteen-year-old that I am. "Anyway, me just mourning over mom all the time isn't really doing me any good either. How about we just do some little exploring before dad gets back home?" I glance down at my watch. "We got an hour-and-a-half."

Vince scratches his head, covered in big, black curly hair. "It's bothering you that much?"

"Consciously and unconsciously apparently." I reply.

He stares at me for a few seconds, then he (you guessed it) sighs. "You think he brought it with him after the move?"

"Yes." I say.

"Where at?"

"I have dreams about it in the basement, but you saw it in the attic." I bite my lip. "Wanna flip a coin?"

"No let's just go upstairs first." Vince decides. "I haven't seen the attic in this house."

"Fair enough." I lead the way to the staircase and up the stairs while Vince silently follows.

The door is subtle in the back wall adjacent to the bathroom. It blends in with the white wall, only visible by the faint silhouette of a rectangle. Gently I slide the door over to the right, and it makes the sound of wheels sliding against a train track.

"Fancy." Comments Vince.

"Yep."

"So we just walk up that dark staircase to our doom, right?"

"That's the plan."

Vince, once we get to the top, has to bend his head over a little due to the low hanging doorway. Somehow, by one heck-of-a-miracle, he is the only member in the family who received the tall genes, and by only 5'9'', which still isn't that tall (I always give him grief about this), but he sure out paces midgets like myself. "Holy..." he gawks at the decor around him. "What did you do to the place?"

"This was all dad's doing." I say. "This was all of the furniture that mom liked, and he keeps it up here."

Vince is silent once he sees the photo of our mom sitting on the desk beside the couch. "Let's hurry up and find this trunk. This room is way too nostalgic for me."

"Well let's start looking for it then."

We search the space, both weary of messing anything up; there's too much of mom around us. There are only a few drawers in the entire room, and nothing big enough that would hide a trunk...

"How big was it do you think?"

"What the trunk?" Vince pauses. "Pretty big I guess. Then again everything seems bigger to you as a little kid. Still I think it's too big to hide in this room."

"So are we calling it quits then?" I ask. "Wanna try the basement?"

"Sure."

We leave the sanctuary of an attic and migrate down to the basement—a stark contrast by comparison. There's junk piled up to the ceiling—in just one corner. Dad is working to get renovation done in the basement, so it'll appear to be a mini-apartment once it's finished, but now there's nothing but unfinished painted walls, and certain areas of the floor are left undone; the boards in these areas are loose, so there's a draft coming in from the ground.

"Let's hurry and get out of this place." Vince says.

We move towards the corner where a bunch of boxes are piled on top of each other. After a while of cautiously pulling things out and setting them down, the chill begins to catch up to us.

"No good." Vince breathes into his hands and rubs them together. "Nothing's here but things that have yet to be unpacked. You'd think dad would at least get some heat working down here." He reaches down and rubs my shoulder for warmth. "Guessing that neither of you hang out down here."

"Are you kidding? It's the perfect place to cuddle for a movie." I rub Vince's arm for warmth. "Okay, we can leave now. I don't feel like looking for it anymore. At least for now."

"You always were so nosy as a little kid." My brother smirks down at me. "Come on. We shouldn't leave the door open."

"Touché." I follow my brother up the stairs and into the warmth of the kitchen and quickly shut the door behind me. Each of us take an apple from the center of the small, round four-person table and sit down to eat.

For a while it's just the two of us and the sound of teeth crunching into apples. Usually we're chatty because, naturally, we've been each others' company our entire lives, but when things got weird (a.k.a., mom committed suicide), and after we moved to Toronto, lately there have been lags of silence. At times when we have conversations, they always lead back to our mother and how she died; it'll be with us for the rest of our lives, but we don't like to think about it, and every time there's a mention of our late parent, it can't be helped. She's been with us for most of our lives, and the way she left was...unusual. Blind-siding. Each time we talk about that. The last time we questioned mom's suicide, we got into a heated argument about what could have possibly driven her to shoot herself. We both ended up shouting at each other and crying in the end, so we decided since then that we wouldn't discuss the reasons behind mom's death until we were mature enough to handle it.

Vince breaks the awkward silence. "How's Rick doin'?"

Not the most ideal alternative, but better than nothing. "Better I think. You know the Whack-Your-Brain tournament that he's in is this Friday?"

"Oh yeah. Awesome. He told me about that when we were playing cards the last time I was here." Vince double-bites into his apple. "You know, he opened up to me about a lot of things that night."

I face him. "Really? Like what?"

"I'm pretty sure he told you, but that thing with his ex-girlfriend last year and how he put her in a coma."

I arch an eyebrow. "What else did he tell you about?"

Vince smirks at me. "Wanna guess?"

I squint at him. "No?"

He starts laughing. "You're so stubborn, Vivian! What's that face for? Afraid of the answer?"

"Sort of." I reply.

"Well now you know that I know about the two of you..._together_ together."

"Brilliant." I throw my hands up, dropping the apple on the table. "I don't have any privacy around here."

"C'mon, why are you discouraged? He's not that bad." Vince says.

"Not _that_ bad you say."

"Well obviously he does have a history," Vince acknowledges, "but when I was talking to him, he seemed pretty laid back, and he didn't express any misogynistic opinions about women."

"Were you talking about women by chance?"

"Well, _yeah_, the thing with his ex-girlfriend, remember? Then he started about a girl at school he was starting to like, and the way he was describing her sounded like you somewhat, even though I was just teasing when I guessed you, but he actually admitted it. That was the biggest surprise of my life. Well," he chuckles, "after mom died, and after realizing that I got accepted into Brown."

"Well the third biggest surprise means you're still really shocked." I say. "And why is that?" I harden my voice.

Vince holds his hands out, laughing again. "Nothing bad, I promise. It's just the thought of you, my little sister, with a boyfriend."

"That's life, though." I shrug. "It's possible for people to find me attractive, you know."

"Don't remind me." Vince sticks his fingers in his ears. "I'm your brother. I don't want to think about you from some stupid teenage boy's point-of-view."

Now I laugh. "Okay, I won't say anything else."

"But now I'm curious..." My brother starts.

"You sound like Queenie."

"Do you feel that way about him?" He ignores my comment.

I pause. _It's your brother._ _The most harmless person you know._ "I do...or did...for a while now." I look at Vince who appears attentive.

"_Did?_" He asks. "Did something happen between you two that made you stop liking him? I won't prod you anymore if you don't want to say anything else."

_I don't._ "Thanks for understanding." I say. "A lot has happened since your last time here."

"I can imagine." Vince slides a packet of stapled papers towards him that was lying beside the bowl of apples. "Hopefully everything is alright between you then, if you're not a couple." He begins flipping through the papers.

"Yeah they're fine." I say. _Don't want to talk about _that_ ordeal._

"I didn't know you were doing Whack-Your-Brain as well." Vince says.

"Huh? I'm not apart of that. I mean student council is helping to put it on, but I'm not a contestant."

"Then what's this study guide of trivia questions doing here?" Vince holds up the packet. "There's a bunch of highlighted stuff in it and everything."

"Oh!" My heart beat accelerates. "That's Rick's! Crap, he must have left it here when he came over last week."

"Oh, okay." Vince says. "He might be tearing his house upside down to look for this. You might want to call him right away to let him know that you have it. Were you helping him study or something?"

I take the packet from my brother. "Something like that."

"And that's all I need to hear." Vince gets up from the table.

I laugh before I take a large bite of my apple. "Come on, dude! I didn't get into details."

"No need. That's what imagination is for." Vince heads towards the kitchen door. "Excuse me while I pretend not to have heard that." He leaves the room.

I roll my eyes. "Baby." I say to myself. He's right, however, on the account that I have to tell Rick that I have his study guide._ Oh well. We can't avoid each other forever._ I walk out of the kitchen as well and head up the main staircase to my bedroom, leaving Vince alone to watch the flat screen in our living room.

My dad helped me paint the walls of my bedroom a medium shade of purple and hang up the multicolored lantern-designed lights suspended from the corners of the ceiling. The colors match the colorful polka-dots that appear on my white comforter that's spread out over my queen-sized bed that sits right underneath the large window in my room. Dad spoiled the crap out of me by letting me have the master bedroom that comes with its own bathroom, the lavender color theme matching that of my room. Along the wall to the left of my bed is my white table with a mirror. The wall perpendicular exists my closet, and right along side it is my white dresser with four drawers. On this same wall, and on the other side of the door, sits my homework desk, which contains a computer and an alarm clock. I love dad for being so generous with the housing arrangements; this room is a way for me to get away from everything, and I hardly let anyone else in with the exception of dad and Queenie.

I head towards my dresser mirror where my phone sits and hesitate before picking it up. _Here we go. I'm going to talk to Rick after days of avoiding him_. He needs his study guide, though, and I can't keep it from him. _Wait. Why don't I call him from my cell phone? He'll recognize that number more than the house phone._ I change tactics and pick up my small flip phone that's also on my dresser. As I dial his number, I quickly leave my room and make my way towards the attic door. I climb the stairs as I listen to the phone ring a few times, and my heart rate skyrockets. It's only Rick. Just Rick.

"Hello?" He answers after what seems like an eternity.

"Hey, Rick. It's Vivian." I say, my heart in my throat. This is terrifying.

"Oh hey." He says. "What's up?"

"Your study guide for Whack-Your-Brain is here at my place." I turn on the lamp as I reach the top floor. "This looks rather important. There's a bunch of stuff highlighted in it and..."

"Oh I was looking for that!" He exclaims. "Glad to know it's not lost."

"Nope. It's right here." I sit on the couch. "I can hand it back to you at school, or if you need it before then..."

"Yeah I actually need it right now, but I can't go to you at the moment..." Rick falters. "My car is...out of commission."

"That's fine." I say. "I can get Vince to drive over to your place and give it to you that way."

"Vince is there?" Rick's voice pitch is higher. "I mean...that would be great."

I chuckle. "You're really fond of him, aren't you?"

"Well," Rick pauses. "He's one of the few people I can talk to about...almost anything. Kinda like you and I."

Goosebumps cover my skin. "We kinda drifted apart, huh?"

"Yeah, well, I have to study for the Quiz Bowl, and I wanted to give you your space after what happened." Rick says. "It's no big deal really."

_No big deal...?_ "H-how have you been? I mean as far as studying for the quiz bowl?"

"As you can guess, difficult since I didn't have that packet of information with me, but I'm managing."

"Getting help from your teammates?"

"Yeah."

Inwardly I sigh. This is going nowhere. "So...when's a good time for me, or me and Vince, to come over?"

"Anytime before 5:30. After a certain time, my parents don't like to have spontaneous visitors come to the house."

"Oh. Okay then. We'll be right over then." I kick my feet against the couch with the backs of my ankles. "See you then."

"Bye." Rick hangs up.

Now I sigh out loud. That was the most painful conversation I have ever had. Both of us were too chicken to address the giant elephant in the room. _Is this how it's going to be like between us from now on?_

I plop down on the couch cushion and come down on my head harder than I anticipate. "Ow!" It's like I banged my head against a rock. "What the heck is this couch made of?" I sit up, rubbing my head. I prod the couch cushion and find the same sensation underneath. _Is there something here?_

I lift up the cushion and discover a black surface. This isn't the bottom of the couch. I knock on the surface. It sounds slightly hollow underneath, like there's an opening somewhere down below. "What _is_ this?" I remove the other cushion and find the same black surface, all one piece.

Then it dawns on me. I'm staring at the top of a trunk. Dad must have put this here. _How was he able to hide it underneath the couch?_ I feel around the trunk to find the latches, which are embedded deep within the cushion since it's pressed up so close against the couch. _I'm gonna have to lift this out of here._ I move to the side of the couch with the armrest and lift the trunk up from that end. Surprisingly it's pretty light. I'm able to have it standing completely on its side, it's long end sticking up in the air like the Titanic ship right before it sunk (at least in the Leo DiCaprio version).

_Now what?_ For a moment I stare at my work. Now I can see the latches and the handle of the trunk in plain sight. _I'll just lift it out of there._ Grabbing the handle and wrapping my arms around it, I manage to heave the trunk out of its hiding place and set it back down again. It's the exact same trunk that I've been seeing in my dreams for the past week and-a-half. It was real. _Is_ real.

Now to open it. For a moment I hesitate; this is the moment of truth. What could be in here that my father is keeping hidden from me and Vince? I have to find out, and maybe, just maybe, I won't be having that redundant dream anymore.

Standing on my knees, I undo the latches, but then hesitate as I feel my stomach knotting itself. Something's in here. What is it? _"I don't think it's wise to be openin' closed doors, especially after mom's death."_

Too late. I'm going for it.

I take a deep breath, and finally, open the trunk. Unlike the movies, a cloud of dust does NOT fly out of the space. I glance inside, however, and find photos of...my mom. Only these are back when she was younger; _much_ younger. Like _high school_ mom, so photographs from the seventies..._whoa._ I find a bunch of photos of her in a cheerleader uniform, and it's like I'm staring at myself in vintage garb. _Do I really resemble my mom that much? How can dad and Vince stand to look at me?_ I have never seen any of these before. There are photos of her with groups of other girls in the same uniform. I flip each of the photos over and find dates scribbled on the back with blue ink. Each read years like '1971' and '1972'. The latest I see of her at this age is in '73.

But why would these photos be kept hidden from me? Aren't these just more memories of mom? So what's so secretive about them? I look back down into the trunk. There's nothing but the same few pictures duplicated in all different sizes. I move heaps of photos around and stumble across a manilla-colored paper. Hastily I move photos out of the way and lift up a giant envelope out of the trunk. I read the red words stamped diagonally across the envelope, and it's one of the most terrifying things I've seen since I saw my mother dead in her chair.

_ Expunged._

I can feel a sudden chill in the room. What is this? Who's records are these? And they were bad enough to be expunged? Somehow this has _never_ made its way to the front of dinner conversation. My conscience has never been at more of a contradiction with itself. _Don't open it. It's none of your business. There's a reason why it's hidden from you. Open it! There's something important that you need to know about!_

Teen angst wins, and I slowly peel open the envelope, cringing as I listen to the sound of the seal peel back easily. As I reach for whatever's inside, my fingers freeze in midair. _Brace yourself. This is going to be ugly. _I count down from three aloud, then hastily grab all of the papers inside of the envelope and pull them out. With shaky hands I hold them up to my face and underneath the lamp light.

Suddenly the entire attic is spinning around me, and sweat piles on top of my head. Breathing becomes difficult as I stare down at yet another photograph of my mom. Or a photocopy of her, frowning, holding up a black sign.

My mom, way back when, in a _mugshot._


	28. And More (Skeletons)

**_Hello, friends who are still interested in the story! I know I've taken long breaks on this before, but this one was a bit longer for a few particular reasons:_**

**_1) There's the whole school spill, and that speaks for itself, especially when you're pursuing higher education._**

**_2) I'm beginning to take better care of myself and am cultivating my interests outside of schoolwork, but most importantly,_**

**_3) I've been really doing my research in regards to abusive men for this story. This is such a serious subject matter that I want to make this piece as accurate as possible to real life even if it is just a Degrassi Fanfiction. _**

**_I think the most important thing that y'all need to know is that I have NOT given up on this story! I take breaks because life gets in the way, but I still love writing, and I'm proud of this project I have going that started out as only a personal idea. Thanks so much for sticking around and reading my story, and thanks a ton for your wonderful reviews! This means a lot considering how much time I'm taking to write this. I won't stop until I finish it!_**

**_So how about we continue from where we left things with Vivian, eh?_**

**_~Elle Winnie :)_**

* * *

**XXVIII. ...And More (Skeletons)  
**

* * *

_Tuesday_

_3 days until Whack-Your-Brain_

* * *

There's a part of me that wants to scream, get the hell out of the attic and leave everything where it is. I can't bear to look at it any longer. The world is shaking around me like a 6.5 magnitude earthquake, and I can't breathe properly. I'm becoming light-headed, and the urge to faint is overwhelming.

But, as if somehow against my will, I mechanically flip through each paper in my hand that I pulled from the envelope. These are criminal records of my mom as a juvenile. Court dockets. And more photographs of mom as a minor with mugshots from the front and either side. All the while I'm in denial with what I'm reading. _If this is really real, how come I'm just now learning about it?_

_My mom is being charged with assaulted battery._ I continue to read through the papers. Apparently she was one of three participants who ganged up on a white male (his name isn't specified) and beat him in the back alley of a parking lot behind a diner. _My mom? Violent? Jumping a person behind a parking lot?_ This doesn't sound like her at all. Nonetheless, the record has her name on it; well, her first name followed by her maiden name, so Veronica _Libby_ instead of Veronica Graham. _Why was I never told about this? Or Vince for that matter? Or does he know something as well?_

"I knew you'd go back up here."

I freeze in terror. Dad's home already? _So much for being discrete_. But as I snap my head around, I realize that it's only Vince, and not my father. _He's beginning to sound more like him when he gets older_. "Vince..." I start but trail off. _Your mother was a convict. Just what you wanna hear about your late parent._ "I...found the trunk. You might wanna see this."

"What the...?" Vince comes closer. "How did you find it?"

"It was inside the couch." I answer. "It was way too hard underneath for it to be just the cushion."

"Damn. He really wants to hide this from us." Vince kneels down next to me.

"Yeah no kidding." I hand him the papers I'm holding. "You'll see why in a second."

I watch my brother's eyes grow wide as he scans the documents with his beady eyes. He flips the police report over and then rereads the front. "What the hell is this?"

"Exactly what you think it is."

"This can't be our mom. Not _our_ mom." That makes two of us in denial.

"Guess you were never told about this either." I remark sarcastically.

I watch Vince's hands tremble as he holds the documents. He's staring down at them as if he's still reading them, but his eyes are traveling elsewhere, beyond the attic.

"Do you think we should tell dad about our discovery?"

"Did you forget about that childhood story I just told you about?" Vince snaps out of his trance. "How about we just put this all away and— "

"Pretend like we never saw anything, right?" I raise my voice. "I think you and I both know that that's not going to happen."

"Vivian, this is a thing of the past. It was _expunged_." Vince says. "We don't need to explore this any more. I've had enough drama in our family to last me a lifetime."

"I'm not asking you to join me." I say, "but you're not stopping me from investigating this. I'm tired of having these dreams, but they came back for a reason, and I think this might be part of why." I take the documents from his hands. "I'll be as secretive about this as possible, but could you please _please_ keep this from dad?"

Vince sighs for the millionth time today. "Of course, but you have to promise me that you won't exhaust yourself over this. You already have enough on your plate for a fifteen-year-old."

I hold out my pinkie. "It's a deal."

"Good." He locks his in. "Just put this all away before dad gets back."

"Alright." I say. "We still have about forty-five minutes."

"B.S. He could come home early for whatever reason."

"Touché." I say. "I'll be quick. Now go away, or we'll definitely look suspicious if he sees us both in the attic."

"Good point. See ya." Quickly Vince leaves the room.

I take a deep breath and exhale before gathering up the photos and stuffing the disturbing criminal records back in the manilla envelope. In my haste, something falls out of the pile and onto the floor in front of me: a photograph.

"What's this?" I reach for the frame sized picture and get a good look at it.

And I thought mom's expunged records were the most terrifying thing in that folder.

* * *

"So you put everything back the way it was, right?" Vince asks me.

"I did the best I could." I reply.

"Good. Hopefully dad's not so OCD about things."

Vince and I are on our way to Rick's house to return his study packet for the Whack-Your-Brain Finals. I feel bad for not knowing that, this entire time, since last Wednesday, his notes had been at my place. Poor Rick must have been so stressed out trying to make due without it.

"Look, we're sort of crunched for time before dad gets home, so let's hurry up and get his car back before then." Vince says. "Otherwise I'd stop in and say hi to Rick, but I'm not trying to get in trouble my first day back."

"Why didn't you just call him and tell him that you were going to use the car?" I inquire.

"Because if we hurry, it won't take us that long." My brother answers.

Under my direction, we pull up to Rick's place in dad's granite-colored car. This is the other car that he owns, even though I don't understand why, of all colors, he would pick one so dank and shady. Occasionally he uses this car when we run shopping errands on the weekends. It's such a bland, generic color that it's sometimes difficult to pinpoint its location, especially in a sea of other dark cars.

"Wow. That didn't take as long as I thought." Vince says. "Okay, you go in and give him his notes back. I'll wait for you here."

"Okay." I climb out of the passenger door. I walk at a leisurely pace up to Rick's front door, relishing this unusually warm weather and stalling my eventual encounter with my friend. This would be our first time speaking eye-to-eye since last Thursday, and I couldn't be more of a wreck. I don't want things between us to be awkward for the remainder of the year, but I'm definitely not ready to question our relationship status again. I shiver, ironically, as I think of our last kiss—one that _I_ initiated. I still can't believe I did that. _Me_ with zero experience before Rick came along. Immediately I go back to the day before when Rick kissed me first, then shake my head. My feelings are still torn in two with our romance. I don't even know how Rick feels about it now. It's been a few days; maybe he doesn't care about it anymore. Maybe he's gotten used to barely speaking to me since then. I didn't mean for us to be like this, but I guess that can't be helped considering we had budding chemistry just before.

Finally I'm standing in front of the door with my heart pounding its way out of my chest. _We could avoid the topic all over again. After all, we're in a hurry to beat dad home. Just hand him his packet and go._ It feels like an eternity has passed as I hesitate, staring at the deep green door. At last I summon enough courage to lift my fist up and knock on the door three swift times.

As I wait a few seconds, I can hear voices on the other side. "Was that the door? Somebody answer that!"

They're shouting in there. _Someone's cranky this afternoon._

The command is fulfilled, and my heart freezes in my throat as Rick stands before me, opening the door. For a moment the two of us stare at each other, both trying to find words to say: I watch Rick move his lips as he attempts to speak.

"I have your packet here." I say at last, holding up his study guide.

He smiles half way. "Thanks." He says calmly and takes it from me. "I've been looking for this. I'm relieved that it was with you this whole time."

"So am I." I look down at my shoes. "Uh...Vince is out in the car if you want to go and say hi to him."

"Really?" Rick looks beyond me, over at dad's ugly car. He waves over at my brother, who waves back with a smile. "How long is he back for?"

"The rest of this week and the weekend." I reply.

"That's great." He smiles a little bit more than before.

"Who's at the door, Richard?"

Immediately Rick faces his left (my right) as his father pops up in the doorway; I watch as Rick nearly jumps out of his skin. "Oh Vivian." The man says. "How are you, dear?"

"I'm okay. Thanks for asking." I reply, grinning the largest grin I can muster.

"Good to know." He smiles back now speaking in a bright, cheery voice. _He's just about as good as being charming as his son_. How freaky it is that I see Rick thirty years in the future? "Care to come in?"

"Oh no. We're actually in a hurry." I say and turn towards the car. "Vince and I need to head back home."

"Borrowing your father's car without permission, huh?" Mr. Murray says.

I snap my head around. _Man he's good!_ "H-how did you know that?"

The man laughs, which is again, _freakishly_ similar to Rick's. "Listen, I can call your father and cover for you both. Unless you're in a hurry to be someplace."

"Really?" I say. "You'd seriously do that for us?"

He winks at me. "Cross my heart."

_Maybe I should just go with it._ Suddenly goosebumps cover my body.

"Don't be shy: my wife can make you two some tea if you want. For both you and your brother."

"Um..." I say. "I'll be right back." I awkwardly walk away from the porch and towards Vince's side of the van.

He rolls the window down. "What gives?"

"Rick's dad figured us out," I report, "but he says he won't tell our dad about it."

"Wait a minute. He knows _what_?"

"That we borrowed dad's car without asking him: you heard right."

"Who is this guy? Sherlock Holmes?" He squints over at Mr. Murray in disbelief.

"He's inviting us in for tea." I continue. "The least we can do is accept the offer."

"_You_ can accept it." Vince says. "I really just wanna go home and relax."

"C'mon, Vince, if you don't wanna stay for tea, at least introduce yourself. He's Rick's dad, and besides, he helped save my life last week. Remember that story I told you about?"

For a lack of better words, I use "sigh" again to describe Vince's heavy, exasperated exhale of breath. "Fine." He opens the door, and I smile as he climbs out of the car and follows me towards where I left Rick and his dad standing.

"Yo, Rick." Vince holds out his hand as both he and Rick slap palms and hold on for a handshake. "Degrassi treating you well?"

"Better than ever." He replies with a grin.

_Liar. _I think_. _

"Uh, have you met my dad?" He continues.

"I don't think we're familiar." Mr. Murray replies in lieu of my brother, extending his hand to my him. "Adam. Nice to meet you."

"Vince. Same here." He takes his hand and completes the standard businessman shake. "Sorry if I seem distant. I just need to go back home, or I just want to."

"I see. You go to university?" Mr. Murray asks.

"Yeah. I attend Brown in Rhode Island." Vince answers.

"Oh, is that an Ivy League Institution? You must be extremely bright. Your parents must be really proud of you."

I look down at the grass.

"My dad is proud of me." My brother says. "And my mom would be too, if she were still here."

"Oh, you mean she's...? I'm sorry to hear that you two." He says in a smooth, gentle voice.

I snap my head up at Mr. Murray again.

"You okay, Vivian?" Rick says to me.

"Fine." I look at him.

"Well if you're sure you don't want to come in, Vince." Mr. Murray says. "We'll make you some tea. Coffee if you'd prefer it."

"Yeah, _Vince_." I pretend to glare at my brother.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'll let dad know that you went to a friend's house." Vince backs away from the doorway. "See you later, Viv. You too, Rick." He slaps his arm. "Nice to meet you, sir." He waves at Mr. Murray before turning towards the van.

I watch him go until Mr. Murray speaks, "Come in, come in."

I follow him inside as Rick joins in behind me and closes the door.

"Rick can walk you over to the couch, and I'll let Lydia know that you're here." I barely catch Mr. Murray's words as he disappears to the back of the house.

Rick faces me. "Walk with me?"

I nod. "Of course."

I follow Rick to the very couch where I had tea and water with him and Mrs. Murray a few weeks back. We sit in approximately the same spots as before, which causes a rush of nostalgia. Somehow, amidst all of the drama, I had a good time that afternoon.

"Thanks again for returning this to me, Vivian." Rick says. "I was really worried I lost it, or that somehow Spinner or Jay had taken it from me."

"Nope. It was safe and sound the whole time." I smile. "You're welcome."

He chuckles at this. "Thanks."

"You've thanked me three times already." I giggle.

He quickly looks at me, smiling with slight embarrassment.

"I hope studying goes better for you this time." I say.

"Oh it will." He replies. "I can't wait to study now."

"Glad to hear." I say. "Listen, Rick, about last week—"

"It's okay, Vivian. I understand where you're coming from." He responds immediately.

"Honest?" I ask. "I know that it hasn't been easy trying to talk since all of that happened. I'm...I'm sorry if I lead you on last Thursday."

"You didn't lead me on." Rick says. "I understand. Honest. I should have been able to listen to you._ I_ was wrong."

"I want us to be able to talk after all of this." I say.

"We're talking now aren't we?" Rick says.

I open my mouth and try to think of a response, but nothing comes out. _Was that supposed to be snarky?_

"Vivian, I'm sorry." Rick says, holding my shoulder. "I'm a little...distracted these days."

"_These_ days?" I say. "It's barely been a week since we've talked about this." I raise my voice. "If you don't want to be friends anymore just say it. I don't like being lied to."

Rick begins to speak, but a shriek from the other room causes us both to flinch. Shortly following it is a loud popping noise.

I stiffen, the blood running cold in my body. I turn to face Rick, and he looks equally as spooked as he looks back at me. There's a brief silence until I force myself to say, "Is...is everything alright?"

"I'll...be right back." He scoots forward.

I reach out and grab his arm. "Where are you going?"

"To see my parents, Vivian." He lays his hand over mine. "I need to go back there and check on them."

I squeeze his arm. "Let's talk some more."

"Vivian, they're my parents." He has a firm grip on my hand that's on his arm. "I have to."

I shake my head slowly. I can only hope that the look that I'm giving him is pleading him to stay.

"It's alright." He softens his voice. "I promise." Slowly he lifts my hand from his arm, and now I cling to his hand.

"Please come back quickly." I say.

"I will." He takes his other hand and covers mine with the two of his before getting up and walking steadily to the other room.

I sit with my hands, now sweaty, in my lap. "Everything's fine; you're just overreacting. There was probably just a roach." I thought saying the lie aloud would help soothe my racing heart. It doesn't.

I look around the living room in the eerie silence, and realize the stark difference from the last time I was here: it's a mess. There are papers and envelopes scattered across the coffee table's surface, practically burying it. Also there's an ashtray with a cigarette butt sitting inside with ashes sprinkled around it.

The mess goes beyond the table. The television has multiple beer cans sitting on top of it, all open from what I can see. The love seat that's to my right (and perpendicular to the couch) has bits of popcorn crumbs sprinkled on the cushions. _What's happened here?_

"Sorry about the mess, dear." There's a smooth hand on my back.

Instantly I look up to see Mrs. Murray and her warm smile towering over me. In her other hand she's holding a red mug. "Care for hot chocolate?"

I smile back. "Yes, please." I say as enthusiastically as possible.

She leans over and hands me the mug before taking Rick's former place on the couch.

"How have you been, sweetie?" Although her smile and her words are both equally warm, as I look at her up close, I can see the deep creases under Mrs. Murray's pale, striking blue eyes. She looks exhausted.

"I'm doing alright." I blow on the steam flowing from the mug before I take a sip. "Wow, this is really sweet."

"For a sweet girl." She winks at me. "I hear you had Ricky's packet this entire time."

I laugh. "Oops! It went unnoticed all the while. My brother was the one who saw it today."

"You're such a good friend to Rick." Mrs. Murray runs a hand through one of my braids. "_Such_ a good friend."

I smile. "Well he's been really kind to me, and a good person as well. It's only natural that I return the favor."

"It's more than that, Vivian." Mrs. Murray says. "I...I was completely opposed to Rick going back to Degrassi. He kept saying that he wanted a chance to prove everyone wrong, especially Terri's old friends. He wanted them to know, he said, that he was a changed person on the inside, that he wanted to be a man for the first time in his life. I was completely against his reasoning. I thought he would be hated and ostracized for what he did, and if I was being honest with myself at the time, I couldn't blame those kids if they felt animosity towards him."

I raise my eyebrows while cautiously sipping the hot chocolate. The heat of it flowing through my system is the only thing that's keeping the goosebumps from popping up on my skin. I look at her closely and see—maybe I'm imaging it, praying that I'm imagining it—but just beneath her left cheek, there's a faint outline of a bruise. Most of it is concealed with foundation I'm assuming. "You-you can relate to them?" The chill is slowly returning to my body.

She shakes her head. "I just feel where they're coming from."

I nod slowly. _But I know I heard your husband in there…_ "So...how did you become convinced that it was okay? For Rick to go to Degrassi?"

She sighs. "Ricky talked to Adam about it. And Adam took his side."

As if on cue, a shrill cry sounds from the other room, and I flinch. I catch Mrs. Murray's reaction; a soft gasp escapes her as she faces the direction she came from: behind the couch and from behind the closed door that leads to...the bathroom, maybe?

"What's happening back there?" My voice is barely above a whisper. "Should we check on them?"

Mrs. Murray takes a shaky breath. "Vivian...as soon as you finish your chocolate, I'm taking you back home."

I widen my eyes. "Wha…? I don't understand. Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Please, dear, don't argue with me." She replies. "I can't stop my husband when he's like this. Ricky...he went back there to protect me, and now he's taking it…" Her voice quivers. "Oh, my sweet son! I left him back there…"

"Mrs. Murray, I'll be alright out here. You need to go to your son!" I can feel my heart hammering in my chest. "Like now!"

"Ricky got his temper from his father." She shakes her head. "I wouldn't be able to stop him. I've done this before—"

"What about me?" I say. "As far as he's concerned, I'm just another naive guest. Please; let me go back there, Mrs. Murray."

Her eyes widen slightly, making her appear a little less tired. "You're right." She says softly. She pauses briefly. "Yes...yes please go check on them! Nothing will happen I promise." Her voice is barely above a husky whisper.

I nod. "Thanks for letting me help." I take another sip from the chocolate. "This is really good." I set the mug down before standing up.

"Sweetie, listen to me." Mrs. Murray holds my arm.

"Hmm?" I face her.

"Everything you heard today stays in this house." Her voice is firm for the first time since I've met her. "Understand? I need this to work for the sake of income. For my son's sake. For his quality of education… I can't afford to live here otherwise. I beg you, Vivian: don't report this." Her eyes are filling up with liquid as she looks up at me with a pleading, heavy gaze.

I look away, afraid if I stare long enough, I won't be able to move. Now I'm cold.

"Vivian, look at me." She jerks my arm slightly to get my attention. "This stays here."

I nod, looking right into her beaming blue eyes. "I promise: I won't tell anyone."

"Thanks for understanding." She says, emotion coating her voice again. "He's not here very often, Vivian, because of his job. Doesn't your father-"

"Yes he does the same." I nod briskly. "Okay: I'll be right back."

"Thank you so much for doing this." She blinks a few times, wiping a tear away from her face.

"Please, Mrs. Murray, do whatever you can to take care of yourself." It feels weird: me, a fifteen-year-old girl, telling a grown woman what to do.

"Thank you." She nods.

I briefly lay a hand on her shoulder and smile. "Alright. Here I go."

She smiles back as I make my way towards the bathroom door that's adjacent to the staircase. Just a few feet away, another shrill cry (from Rick) comes from behind the door followed by a thud. _Aww, Rick! I'm coming. You don't have to play hero anymore, I'm coming._

I pause just before knocking. I need to get myself together first. _Like my shaking hands for instance._ After all: as far as Rick's dad is concerned, I'm just a cute, innocent little girl who's too naive and captivated by Rick's gentle nature to see anything horrible about his family.

_That's what you think, pal._ Eagerly I knock three, solid times on the door. "Hey, it's Vivian. Is everything alright? I just want to talk to Rick before I leave." I sound calm and cheerful; just what I was aiming for.

"Vivian? One minute." That was Mr. Murray's voice. It chills me to the bone that he sounds so calm after what just happened. There's a click before the door opens, and the older version of Rick stands right in the doorway. "Do you mind giving Rick a few minutes? He'll be ready afterwards." I move back as he steps out of the doorway and closes the door. "How is studying going for you, dear?"

"Really good." I also act natural.

"Are you typically a strong student?"

"I usually am, sir."

"Always good to hear." The man smirks. "You strike me as the intelligent type. Like my son." He winks at me. "Guess it runs in your family too."

"You know my family?" I ask.

"Uh...I meant with your brother Vince attending an ivy league school and everything." He chuckles at himself.

I nod slowly, forcing a grin. "Well...thanks."

"Anytime, sweetie." He places a hand on my shoulder and smiles at me. "It's always good to see Richard being friends with good people like yourself. He's certainly lucky."

I continue to act innocent. _You're not fooling anyone._ "Oh, we're just friends."

"Well, even so, he's fortunate."

Speaking of which, Rick opens the bathroom door and, proving my point, stands next to his identical twin. "Hi, Vivian." He says, also smiling. "Ready to go?"

I return it—genuinely this time. "Uh-huh." I quickly glance over his face in search of physical harm.

"You're taking her home now?" Mr. Murray asks his son.

"Yeah. That is, if you don't mind me taking her in your car." Rick, to my surprise, reaches out and holds on to my left hand.

"Well", I look up at his dad while he speaks, "sure. Just bring it back in one piece." Their voice textures almost perfectly match.

I look over and see Rick biting his lip as he stares back at his father with a vacant expression. Due to his lip, however, and the slight squeezing of my hand, I can tell that he's pretty agitated by his father's remark.

"Certainly." Rick replies. "C'mon, Vivian." I gasp softly as he gently tugs me towards him.

"Um, in Rick's defense, Mr. Murray, he's a very safe driver." I say in an attempt to break the tension.

Mr. Murray looks over at me and begins to chuckle. "I'm sure he is, Vivian." He reaches for my shoulder again. "I was just pulling his leg." He brushes his hair back. "Alright get out of here, you two. Go do kid stuff."

Rick scoffs at this.

"You know what I mean." Now it's the dad's turn to be agitated. "And what I _don't_ mean."

"Aw, dad, you think I'm that kind of guy?" Rick says, slightly yanking me away from his dad. "Oh ye have little faith in your son."

Goosebumps prickle across my arms. _What on _earth_ am I in the middle of?_ I look at Mr. Murray to see any traces of anger, but he's just calmly smiling at the two of us, so I just smile back.

Rick, still holding my hand, walks us away from the man and towards the front door of the house. As we reach it, Mrs. Murray is standing there seemingly waiting for us. I watch as she embraces Rick, running her hands through his hair. She whispers something in his ear as she's holding him, then lets go. "Bye, Vivian," she says softly, "It was great seeing you again."

It's when I look at her wide, pale blue eyes does my heart break into a million pieces. There I see a look of sadness and fear all blended into one, powerful gaze, and it's drowning my spirit in pain. How can a person, at her own house, be so afraid? Is this common for her? To live in fear day after day?

I rush up and hug Mrs. Murray, unable to look at her anymore. "Thanks for having me over, Mrs. Murray. Glad I decided to stay a bit longer."

She hugs me back tightly. "I'm glad you stayed too." She says, running a hand through my hair. "You're such a sweet, sweet girl." I look at her and the eminent emotions swimming in her eyes.

I smile at her, fighting back my own emotions. "Thanks for treating me like family."

She smiles back. "You're welcome here anytime, sweetie." She leans in and kisses my forehead. Although I'm caught off guard, a warmth floods my heart instantly. "Have a safe trip home."

Rick walks up behind me. "Ready?" He asks me.

"Yep." I reply.

"Alright. Let's go." He takes my hand again, and Mrs. Murray opens the door for us.

I smile and wave at her before turning my attention towards the graphite car—different from before—that Rick and I are walking towards. As usual, he opens the passenger door for me, and I climb inside before he closes the door. I absently go through the notions as I take in what happened this afternoon. _Everything makes perfect sense now._ I place my hand over my heart, beating at a fast yet steady pace. I'm conflicted in my mind, in my morals and in my peace. What's happening in the Murray house...I would have NEVER guessed anything of the sort just weeks ago when I was here last. I can't believe I was oblivious to it all! _How...?_ And now I'm watching it happen in front of my own two eyes, and can do nothing about it! _Everything makes perfect sense now!_ Rick's abusive nature...where else could he have gotten it from than from the man who set the first example for him?

If Rick said anything to me before pulling off, I don't recall it. I'm lost in a world of confusion.


	29. Zero to One-Hundred?

_[Insert explanation for why it took me so long to update this story here]_

_**But seriously, I would like to give you a HEADS UP before reading this chapter:**_

_**1) This one's a bit longer than any of the chapters I've written thus far**_

_**2) There is the subject of the "birds and the bees" again. **_

_**3) I don't own any of the Degrassi characters, and this includes the dialogue that I'm borrowing from the show**_

_**You guys rock. Seriously. It's been two years since I've stared writing this, and I'm so glad that some of you have stuck around to continue reading this story. Please enjoy!**_

* * *

**XXI-XXX. Zero to One-Hundred, Then Back to Zero  
**

* * *

_Wednesday_

_2 days until Whack-Your-Brain_

* * *

**Rick Murray**

* * *

It has to get done today. I know just the person to talk to to help me get through to Vivian, the only person who knows her best besides her father, her brother—and me of course.

"I still can't believe you want to talk to me of all people. You know by now that I'm crazy, right?"

Who better than the caricature Queenie Parker?

"Ah, no crazier than Jay Hogart." There are rumors about the two of them sleeping together once. Perhaps I shouldn't have said his name...

"Gee, thanks. I figured that out for myself." Queenie rolls her eyes. "Now spill it, buddy."

Somehow I convinced Queenie to have lunch with me out on one of the picnic benches outside of the school building. It's almost hidden as it's isolated from the rest of the tables outside and shielded by dense overgrowth from the trees, which is perfect for a guy like me who everyone hates. Additionally, topics concerning Vivian are especially sensitive to me, and Queenie is the only one at Degrassi who understands that.

"Spill it. Right." I run a hand through my hair. "So Vivian came by my house to give me my study guide for Whack-Your-Brain—"

"Oh, how's that going?" Queenie asks.

"Pretty well." I reply. "So we, my family and I, invited her in to stay and..." _No need going down that road and its grizzly details_. Although telling Queenie about it would make much more sense to her if she's going to hear me out, I can't risk that. "...and after that, we decided to take her home."

"_You_ guys decided? You didn't ask Vivian if she was ready?"

"Uhhh...yeah." I say. "There were other errands and stuff we had to attend to, and we didn't want Vivian to feel like she was being neglected."

"I understand." Queenie nods.

"So did Vivian," I continue, "so I volunteered to take her home—"

"Don't tell me: the two of you didn't go home right away." Queenie chuckles, shaking her head. "You two are pathetically predictable." She takes a swing from her water bottle.

"Hey, that's not pathetic!" I find myself getting comfortable around Queenie's snarky attitude as I chuckle.

"Whoa now. Look at you all defensive." She teases. "Okay, okay, I'll stop interrupting. Tell me the story."

I sigh, trying to recall every detail. "So I was..." How do I put this without giving anything away that things are awry at home? "...so I was upset about something—personal stuff, and Vivian was able to comfort me..."

* * *

**Vivian's P.O.V. (previous evening)**

I'm wrapping my mind around what I had witnessed at Rick's place. Okay: technically I didn't _see_ anything, but I sure as hell heard that stuff! And poor Mrs. Murray's face: I know her husband did that to her. I look at Rick occasionally while he's driving. Each of these times he doesn't look away from the road. Mind you, I know that while driving, that's a good thing, but he doesn't even glance at the side or rear-view mirrors. He's completely rigid, the only thing moving on him are his hands on the steering wheel.

_Is he embarrassed by what happened to him?_ Goodness, should I say something then? Should I not? His family, because of his father, is a mess! And he's the ultimate bread-winner at the house, like Mrs. Murray mentioned, so reporting this would put them in a financially rough situation. _Would they be better off that way?_

_"Everything you heard today stays in this house. I beg you, Vivian: this stays here."_

I'm still hearing Mrs. Murray's words ringing through my head, and the way she looked at me was as if her life depended on it. Hell, it probably does. What would happen to Rick's future if I told the police, or someone who would report to the police? Would they have to go to a shelter? Rick would definitely have to transfer, so that's out of the question, but would it be for better or for worse? Mrs. Murray wouldn't be able to send her son to a well-off school if he stayed with her the whole time, assuming that Mr. Murray is calling all of the money shots in the household. _He's such a little geek._ This almost makes me smile. _Even if he was abusive before, he's no match for a school on the rough side of town_. _They'd eat him alive._ What schools are like that in Toronto? I have no idea. But it's not like Rick's life is particularly golden now either. _What should I do?_ I can't live with this alone. I need to tell someone outside of the Murray family, and for now, that'll have to be someone who's sworn to secrecy. _But who can I trust?_

"Vivian, you okay?"

After a painfully long silence, Rick's voice erupts the air like thunder. I jump out of my skin. "Uh-huh." I reply, the pitch of my voice heightened. _Oh good, he's speaking._ Anything to snatch me away from the depressing tangent of my thoughts.

"Good. Did my mom make you something to drink?" He asks. His voice is smooth and gentle.

"Yeah." My heart swells at the memory of it. "Hot chocolate. Man that was good! It was like she made it a little extra sweet."

"Yeah she usually does that." Rick replies. "I'm glad you liked it."

"I loved it." I say cheerily. _Which one of us will stop the facade first?_

"Vivian," Rick pauses, "do you wanna...stop and get food before I take you home?"

This just got interesting. "Um...what place did you have in mind?"

"Uhhh...anywhere you want." He answers.

"Oh. W-well I don't particularly know every place there is to eat around here..."

"Oh, that's right." Rick's voice is calm all the while. "Well...I'll take you to a little shop where they serve apple cider. Ever had it before?"

"Apple cider?" I echo. "Never."

"Well then that's where we'll go." Rick looks over and smiles at me for the first time this evening.

I have to admit, in spite of the whirlwind of a time at the Murrays, I'm relieved to see him smiling. It's small and his teeth are hidden, but it's a normal expression.

And I smile back. "I can't wait to have some."

* * *

**Rick's P.O.V. (current day)**

"So you went to get apple cider and some other light snack before you took her home?" Queenie says. "Geez, you're sprung over her, dude. Admit it."

"Well..." I hesitate. "Sure. If you prefer to put it that way. But this gets more complex than what it seems."

"I'm all ears." Queenie leans in towards me, her elbows resting on her knees and her hands underneath her chin.

"Okay then." I say. "So...you know how I'm usually a cautious driver right?"

* * *

**Vivian's P.O.V. (previous evening)  
**

"So how about it, Rick? Do you have your study guide with you?" I ask. "I'm curious about the questions that might be thrown at you on the quiz show." I'm trying to avoid the loud silences as much as possible. I don't want to think about what happened at Rick's house. Or what could be happening now.

"Hmm? Oh, no, I left them back home. Not making the same mistake twice." He chuckles slightly.

"Understandable." I chuckle as well.

Rick's silent again and uber-focused on the road. _Dammit, Rick, talk some more! Give me one of your theater rants!_ The last time he dropped me off coming from his house he wouldn't shut up about it. It's like this is his twin named _Nick_ Murray driving instead. "Things going smoothly with your teammates? Does Heather Sinclair even show up for any of the study sessions?" I chuckle out loud.

"Yeah. Uh-huh." Rick answers. No lengthy description follows. No eye contact is made.

_Shit. I'm losing him!_ My body's cold with goosebumps. "How far away is this restaurant or diner place?"

"Just a ten minute drive out. Fifteen I guess from your place." He says, still facing the road.

The way we're interacting—as if there's _nothing_ wrong—is mental torture. I can't keep on playing this game anymore. Maybe Rick's used to this since he has his life on the line if he ever told anyone, but I can't take it. Oh, dang. That's just it: He's _used_ to doing this. It's like his father beating him around was just another day at school—damn even that's a bad simile since he _does_ get beat up everyday at Degrassi! _Ai you poor soul, Rick Murray._

So what do I do when something's bothering me? I speak up. "Rick, either now or later, we need to talk about what happened back there."

Silence.

"I know what happened back there with your dad. That's why I knocked on the door. To stop it from continuing." I look at the side of his face, scanning him for any physical injuries.

Still no words.

"I understand if you don't want to, but I saw it—"

"Vivian, drop it. It's nothing. Just discipline." For once more than two words come out of his mouth.

"It's not 'nothing', Rick." I say calmly.

"It is to me. I don't want to talk about it. Not now or ever. Okay?" This time he faces me, a hard look in his brown eyes and his voice stern.

I return the look. There's a sarcastic retort on the tip of my tongue, but I don't feel that's appropriate for this serious subject matter. "Fine." I harden my voice while saying this. "But know that I can't just un-hear what went down, Rick. You got that?" And still the frustration leaks through my voice.

* * *

**Rick's P.O.V. (current day)**

"Wait, what's Vivian frustrated about?" Queenie says. "She's not the type of person to be upset with you for no reason. It's always something running deep. What was it?"

"Errr...something personal." I reply quickly.

"Rick."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Rick."

"Queenie."

"_Richard_."

I bite the corner of mouth. "I hate that name." Only people like Raditch and my father, the current topic of avoidance, can call me that.

"I know. Now tell me the truth, or I'll call you that from here on out."

If only there was a name I could call her that she hated! There's baldy, but that would be too cruel. She trusted me enough for her to tell me such sensitive information...oh wait.

"Rick, you can trust me the way I trusted you to keep my secret about having cancer." Queenie plays just the card I was hoping she wouldn't.

Nonetheless, she has a point. "Alright, fine. You won't tell anyone about this?"

"If I do—which I won't I promise—you can tell the whole school my secret."

Suddenly I can't speak. I don't think I've told anyone about the abuse, and poor Vivian was just caught in the middle of it last night, so I don't count her as someone I confessed to.

Queenie's hand slowly covers her mouth when I do finally tell her. "From now on, you're welcome to stay at my place anytime you feel unsafe." She says quietly.

I nod. "Thank you."

"Your secret's safe with me." She winks. "Now back to the story. What about you and your cautious driving?"

"Oh right." Telling this story will be much easier now. Well, almost.

* * *

**Vivian's P.O.V. (previous evening)**

Rick doesn't reply to me. He's mute yet again as he returns his focus toward the road.

"Rick, I don't like this silent treatment." I say. "Clearly this is affecting you. I won't push you if you don't wanna talk about it, but please don't go quiet on me."

Rick remains silent. Then out of nowhere, he does the unthinkable.

He slams on the accelerator.

I jerk back in my seat as we fly down the road. The trees in the background become a green blur of scenery. I watch as we swerve around other cars, all honking at us in turn. For the first few seconds I'm numb to it, expecting him to slow down, but after this time elapses, my heart plummets into panic. "Rick, slow down! What's the rush?"

Still no response. He swerves around a right corner without slowing down, causing us both to lean forward and towards the right.

"Rick, stop! Slow down!"

He does more than that. By slamming on the break, he causes us both to jerk forward, but fortunately the pair of us are wearing seat belts, so our inertia doesn't send us through the dashboard.

After making sure I have a firm hold of myself, I go off on Rick. "What the hell is wrong with you?! You can't just go speeding out of no where like that! You know how crazy that is?! How d_angerous_?"

Rick's leaning forward, his arms crossed on the steering wheel and his chin resting on them.

"Say something." I say in a calmer tone. "You can tell me anything you need to, Rick."

I take the time to look out of the passenger window. It seems like we're in a park of someplace as we're parked at the bottom of a grassy slope. The hill's covered in green. The view in the sunlight is pretty.

But as I turn back to face Rick, however, it's anything but. He's biting the corner of his mouth, and I can see a slight twitch in him. His face is slowly turning a violet pink. "You want me to talk!?" He raises his voice. "Fine. Are you listening, Vivian? I can't do anything to please that man! Nothing will make him stop hitting me: if I disobey him, the consequences are worse; if I do obey him, I'm belittled about not having a backbone. The moments when I can impress him are few and far in between, and when they do come around, it's only for a few seconds until I'm on his bad side again." He looks at me, his entire body trembling. "Are you happy, Vivian? There: I spoke about him. You pried it out of me. You forced me to talk about the absolute _worst_ moments of my life. Things are so much better when he's not home, Vivian. You saw for yourself when I invited you over that day. Now he's home for a few days, and _we_ left my mother back there with him."

He takes both hands and run them through his hair. "Why did you have to play the heroine, Vivian?"

I frown. "What...?" His words throw me off-balance.

"You could have just let it happen! I could have taken it a lot better than my mom could even bear. She needs me back there to be her punching bag." He leans forward, our faces just a few inches a part. "Thanks to you, Vivian, my mother's suffering at the hands of my own father, who's doing who-knows-what to her right now."

I lean back against the window, away from Rick. "Your safety is just as important, Rick, and to your mother, a priority. I didn't mean to endanger her life, Rick. I was trying to save yours."

"At what cost? My mother's life?"

"You didn't see the look she gave me when we heard him hitting you. Have you ever noticed the pain ever on your mom's face when she knows that you're being hurt? She wanted me to go back there and stop it! And I did too. There's no crime in that. I was—_we_—were helping you!" I begin to lean forward too, our faces even closer than before, and return his gaze. One that's filled with mixed emotions of anger, despair and frustration. "M-maybe you should just take me straight home." I say. "No need to stop at a restaurant."

Rick sighs, and since our faces are inches apart, his odorless breath (thank goodness) sweeps across my face.

"I'm not the bad guy here, Rick." I say firmly.

"You're right." He replies. "Why not be like everybody else in my life thus far? Can't you make my life easier and join the rest of them? Cheer on the taunts and make me suffer. You could just go and be friends and have a normal, happy life. You deserve it. I'm only dragging you down. Tarnishing your reputation."

"You're talking crazy." I say. "You think that all I'm worried about is my popularity status? Rick, we're _friends_. Your problems are my problems."

"But...why?" Ricks asks. "Why not make it simple for me and have me hate everything about Degrassi? I could easily leave."

"If you really wanted to, you would have left regardless if I was your friend or not."

He pauses for a few seconds, staring at me. "You're right." He reaches for one of my braids and twists his fingers around in it. I watch him, a little uncomfortable. "You're so special."

I chuckle nervously. "Just another kid really." _Wasn't he just upset a second ago?_

He sighs again as he stares at me, now a peaceful look painted across his face. I watch as he appears to examine every part of my face. "I'm...sorry for blaming you like that. I'm just..." he trails off. He looks away from me, and slowly, I watch his face pinch up. His bottom lip starts to quiver.

_Oh, no. Please don't. I'm not good at comforting people..._

Rick slowly breaks down. He removes his glasses and sobs into his hands.

I stare at him. Today marks the second most helpless moment I've ever had in my life (you know, with the mom story and all). I wonder how often this happens. Does he cry himself to sleep every night, or does he bottle it all in? Either way is unsettling enough to make me hurt for Rick. Then I think about last Thursday and how he scooped me up in his lap when I lost it. _Return the favor at the very least._

With shaky hands, I reach for Rick's glasses and gently remove them from his face: a rosy, tear-stained face. Without his glasses and with the ability to stare directly into his light brown eyes, glossy with moisture, he appears more vulnerable, more revealing about his true emotions. Just looking into them I can spell pain. My hands still trembling, I wipe the running tears away from my friend's face. _What am I doing? Oh, god, what am I doing?_

I don't stop there. I take his face between my hands and lean my forehead against his. "I'm...sorry..." I say, unable to speak.

Rick grabs my arms with either hands and buries his face in my chest. Instantly I wrap my arms around him to balance his weight with mine (I wasn't expecting him to be so heavy!). _Did Rick feel just as helpless when I was the one crying last time? Going along spontaneously and hoping that I would eventually calm down?_ Nonetheless, I find that his body pressed up against me, although trembling from sobbing, is warm and comforting. I want to say words to soothe him, but common phrases such as "it's okay" and "it'll be alright" I can't bring myself to, especially since I've seen—no, gotten a _glimpse_ —of Rick's utterly disturbing world. _What's alright about his life anyway?_ I think as I look out of the front car window, away from the sun.

Suddenly the answer comes to me. _It's me...but I can't be the only thing good about his life, can I?_ He also has Toby to confide into. Though Toby can't fill those emotional, romantic needs that Rick's probably longing for. _He just needs another chance to prove himself, right? Right?_ I begin to run my fingers through his brown hair, and am relieved to find it so soft. It feels so good in between my fingertips. _Is it weird that I'm finding pleasure at the expense of Rick's pain?_ Then I remind myself that Rick is also benefiting from my caresses as well. _I'm just doing what he did last week._ I continue the motion, gaining more confidence through each additional movement. "I'm sorry, Rick." I lean my head against his. "I wish I could do something to help you."

Suddenly he lifts his head. He and his bright brown eyes stare up at me, widening them as if he's just now realizing that I'm here.

Slowly I smile awkwardly at him. I struggle to make the gesture with my mouth, as if it's glued shut into a frown.

Rick sits up, and his grip around my waist tightens as he pulls me closer to him, right up against him. The action startles me that I grab hold of his shirt. We hold eye contact for a moment. There in the twinkling, brown abyss of Rick's eyes do I see his thoughts. Suddenly I can read his mind through his gaze. _"I wanna kiss you."_ His eyes say.

And I want the same thing.

"Vivian..." Rick's voice is barely above a whisper. He moves a hand around the back of my neck. Again I can feel his odorless breath brushing against my face, warm against my skin.

I squeeze his shoulders, moving my hands underneath his arms. "Yeah?" My heart's racing. My face is throbbing with heat.

My eyes close as Rick presses his face against mine. He also brings me close using his hand around my neck. Slowly I begin to tilt my head to the right. Though my eyes are closed, I know that Rick's lips are just a nuzzle away. He's the one who makes the first contact: he brushes his lips against my own, and goosebumps cover my entire body. As we both breathe heavier than before, I can now taste his breath, and I know that he can taste mine.

"Kiss me, sweet Vivian." He says softly against my lips. He doesn't pull away: he molds a kiss into the corner of my mouth.

There's no hesitation on my part. It's like Rick activated a switch within me, and I fulfill his wish. I dive into his full lips, which seem to _always_ be soft, always moist, and always warm. I'm not afraid to venture over them as I lead the kiss. I hold his face with either of my hands, and he encircles my waist and pulls me even closer to him, just when I think it's impossible. He kisses me with the same amount of passion, the same amount of hesitant-less strength. Rick's tongue glides over my lips, and I gasp at the sudden sensation. I slowly open my mouth, and he enters immediately, his tongue mingling with my own. An exchange of moist saliva and hot, thick breath happens between us. I had only made out with Rick a couple of other times before this, but it's now becoming second nature for me, even though my entire system feels like an electric current is zapping through me every time I kiss Rick's lips.

* * *

**Rick's P.O.V. (current day)  
**

"I'm waiting for the supposed 'bad' part of the story to happen." Queenie rolls her eyes as I tell her about the kiss.

"Can't you be patient? I'm getting to it."

"Good because from my angle, it sounds like you're having a hell-of-a-time making out with my friend."

I can feel my face turning red from the remark. "I was at first."

"So then _tell me_ what happened!" Queenie stamps her feet on the concrete ground.

I smirk. "I see now that I have your undivided attention."

"Oh, shut up and finish the story."

"As you wish." I say. "So..."

* * *

**Vivian's P.O.V. (previous evening)  
**

Rick and I migrate to the back seat of his car as we proceed to kiss each other. The setting sun shines a brilliant ray of light into the vehicle, warming up the confined space. There's a small cloud of fog left on the driver's side window, and now we're about to steam up the back seat with our heavy panting. We've alternated between who's leading the kiss, and this time it's Rick for the second time. He props me up against the back left corner of the seat and kisses me with heavy lips. I lock my arms around his neck, and he moves his hands up and down my sides. He pauses briefly to remove his gray jacket and his plaid button-down in one swift motion before grabbing me again and kissing me.

"I'm sorry it's so stuffy in here." He pants in between kisses. "Are you hot? You're soaked in sweat."

I look down at my red and navy striped polo. He's right: my shirt alone is drenched in perspiration. I giggle uneasily. "Didn't notice." I say.

Rick holds a hand under my chin and lifts my face up to his gaze. He reaches up with his other hand and wipes the sweat from my forehead. He leans in and kisses my forehead afterwards. I gently brush back the hair in his face that's damp with sweat. His glasses-less eyes are still faintly red from the tears he shed just moments ago.

"You okay?" I have my right hand on the side of his face.

His response is leaning in for a long, gentle kiss. "Where would I be without you?" He says after he releases his lips from mine. "I love you, Vivian. Degrassi would be so much more miserable without you there." He kisses my lips again. "You're an angel." Another kiss.

He presses himself against me, placing a firm grip on my waist. I can feel his hands moving up my shirt while drowning in his rich kisses. He glides his hands up and down my bare skin, and my heart flutters, especially as I can feel him tugging at my shirt. I begin to undo the buttons, and Rick hastily takes over the process before trying again at the hem and lifting the shirt over my head. Instinctively I raise up my arms while he gently removes it from my body, leaving me in my white, lacy bra. He gently slides his hands down my sides once more and brings me in for more kisses. I begin to undo the braids in my hair, and Rick trails his kisses down to my neck. A surprise moan escapes my throat as he sucks at a weak spot. He moves his kisses back to my lips and tilts me back slowly until I'm lying horizontally across the backseat. Rick joins me on top and removes his shirt. He pants heavily as he kisses my lips yet again, and I pant too. My entire body tingles as I come in contact with his bare chest. He keeps a firm grip on my waist as he begins to grind against my body, and his kisses become deeper. He presses his chest up against mine while continuing his steady grinding motion. I close my eyes and let him continue, holding on to his shoulder blades. His moans and sighs, along with his tender kisses in my neck, cause me to melt underneath him.

"It's so hot in here." Rick pants. He rubs sensual circles over my stomach. "So hot." He hastily unbuttons my pants and slides them down my legs.

I gasp. "Rick—"

"Shhhh. It's okay. I just took off your pants." He says gently.

He's right. He didn't touch my red underwear with white polka-dots, now exposed, but I'm still wearing them.

"Relax, beautiful. You're safe with me." Rick continues to rub my stomach and smiles down at me.

I smile back at him, my breathing heavy.

Then I realize I'm in my underwear. _Whoa! How did we get here?_

Rick bends over and plants butterfly kisses along my torso, and I gasp again. He grabs my waist tighter.

"Rick." I grab his head. "Can we not?"

His response is kissing my lips. "I'll take it slow. Don't worry." He moves a hand over my inner right thigh and buries kisses in the crook of my neck. He moves his other hand over my body, soon to be both of his hands.

His caresses send me to a land of bliss, and I close my eyes and run my fingers through his thick hair. Everything is surreal. Rick and I are together, almost completely naked. It's like I'm living a completely new life, reborn into a new person. Getting all this intimate attention from a boy that I like.

Just like that, I jolt back to reality when I feel Rick grabbing at my underwear.

"Rick, no." I grab his hands. "I'm not ready for that yet."

He looks down at me, squinting as if he didn't hear me correctly. "Vivian? But I thought...you let me take off your clothes."

"I know," I say as I begin to sit up, "and I'm sorry if you were looking forward to it, but no. I don't want to."

Rick scoots back. "I thought that—I thought you loved me. You know I love you, Vivian."

"That's not fair." I argue. "Just because I don't want to have sex with you doesn't make you any less important to me, Rick."

Rick rests holds his hands together and rests his elbows on his knees. I watch him press his forehead into his hands.

"Sorry if I made you think otherwise." I say softly. "I promise I wasn't trying to trick you."

"I know you wouldn't do something like that." Rick replies. "Sorry. I'm just...sorry. Here let me take you home."

"What about the apple cider?"

"Never mind that. It's getting late. I don't want your father to worry about you." Rick bends down and hands me my clothes that he tossed on the floor. "I'll wait until you get dressed. Promise I won't look." He grabs his jacket and shirt off the floor and climbs back into the driver's seat.

I stare at him for a moment longer before I slowly slip back into my black jeans and polo.

* * *

**Rick's P.O.V. (current day)  
**

Queenie's light brown eyes grow wide. "Holy _shit_. Wow. You guys are...but seriously, Rick, that's more normal than you think. Couples and making love is a complicated thing, and it can suck if one of you wants it more than the other."

"I'm not done with the story." I reply. "There's still one last thing that happened." To think that I'm hesitant to follow through with the rest of the story is cowardly, especially since I'm already in too deep, but...I'm certainly not proud of this next part. _Oh well. Better for her to skin me alive sooner rather than later._

* * *

**Vivian's P.O.V. (previous evening)**

We're back at square one: driving in silence. Rick doesn't try to make conversation, and I don't try to get him to talk either. I sit slouched back in the passenger's seat with my arms tightly crossed. There's a thick tension in the air that, until now, I've never felt with Rick before. I look out of the window and watch the sun starting to set: living in a different time zone than before, it always throws me off at how late the sun always sets to me, but as daylight savings time rolls around, I'm starting to see the sun go down around a time I'm used to.

Rick pulls up into the driveway of our house, and I cringe at the vines growing around it as they practically bury the pretty sight of our house._ Why doesn't dad trim those? Ugh._

I begin to sigh and realize that Rick does it at the same time. Quickly we both look up at each other then turn away again.

I chuckle nervously. "Guess I'll head inside now. Thanks for the ride." I unfasten my seat-belt and reach for the door handle.

"Vivian." Rick gently grabs my arm.

"What?" I turn around.

The way he's staring at me, through his glasses that are now back on his face, I know he's been thinking about something long and hard. "Have you ever loved me all this time? I've never heard you say so."

"Uh...what?" My voice is higher in pitch. "Wh-wha..." I stammer. "Where is this coming from?"

"You didn't answer me." Rick says. "So...no? I was the only one that cared about us?"

"Whoa...Rick..." My heart speeds up. "No, you were never the only one. I cared about us too."

"You don't love me." Rick says. "Just say it. You've never said 'I love you' to me once."

"Whatever happened to 'I don't expect you to say it back'?" My head's starting to spin. "I didn't know you felt so strongly about it. I really like you, Rick-"

"But not love." Rick sighs. "Am-am I not worthy of your love? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me at Degrassi after all?"

"Rick, what are you _talking_ about?!" I shake my head in disbelief. "I say no to sex, and you think I don't care about our relationship?"

"Vivian, you don't understand." Rick starts to squeeze my arm. "You're the one that I'm the closest to at school. I can't survive Degrassi otherwise."

"Exactly. Not having sex won't change that. We've gotten this far without it." I say. "Please don't put me through what Jay did."

"I'm nothing like Jay!" Rick raises his voice, and I flinch. "You know how I feel about him. You know I would never try to do that to you."

"Rick."

"Why would you do that?" He's glaring at me. "Vivian, I've changed so much in these several months. If you would have known me before, you would realize it too. " He squeezes harder. "I'm not perfect."

"And neither am I." I say. "Now let go of my arm. You're squeezing too tightly."

"I can't let you think that way about me." Rick continues. "I thought you were better than that. I thought I could trust you."

"Rick, my arm." I'm growing sweaty.

"I've treated you so well." Rick says.

"Are you not listening to me when I say let _go_?" I yank my arm away from his grip, and the back of my hand smacks the door behind me. I let out a soft cry and rub my knuckles.

Now I'm overcome with a boiling rage. "You treated me well? So what does that mean? That I owe you something in return? Rick, let's talk about you and _your_ flaws! Let's talk about that list you made about your female classmates! Do you honestly think that's normal? You think that's okay?"

Rick's eyes widen. "Vivian..."

"According to that list, I'm not even your first pick, so why should I believe anything you say about loving me?" Words spill out of my mouth like hot soup. "I don't owe you anything, anytime, ever!"

I turn and push on the door handle. And push. And push. And push again. Each time it doesn't budge.

"Open this door, Rick." I say, looking back at him. It feels like an ice-cold claw raked itself down my heart.

"I will, Vivian, but just listen to me." Rick says.

"I've heard just about enough."

"No you haven't. Give me a chance to explain myself." Rick reaches for my hand. I slap it away. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."

I scoot away from him until I find my back right up against the door. "Explain yourself doesn't mean touch me."

"Vivian, the list you saw...I made that before I got to know you. I see you differently than before. I do. Don't hold that against me. I already have to deal with my psycho reputation. I don't need this on top of that."

"Rick, it's not my fault that you have to redeem yourself for something that _you_ did." I say. "Sorry if that sounds harsh to you, but it's the truth. Why...why would you even make a list of girls like that? There were twenty of us on that list." My voice gets softer as I force myself to finish my statement.

"What you saw that day is nothing like the way I am now." Rick says. "I promise. I have flaws, Vivian. Why can't you accept that?"

I shake my head. "These aren't just flaws. Rick, I don't think you and I should be together."

"Vivian, don't turn against me." He leans in closer. "Please." He takes my hands. "I love you, Vivian. It pains me that you can't say it back to me."

I feel myself trembling all over. I don't know what from: fear? Anger? Frustration? RAGE? I can feel my insides boiling like I'm heating myself up in an oven. "If you really loved me, you'd let me out of this car." If ice had a sound, it's probably my voice at the moment.

I watch Rick's face fall. He's pausing as if he's inhaling an air of breath. "I saved your life. I deserve to be treated better than this." He says this in the most chillingly quietest voice ever. He begins squeezing my hands.

"Let me go." I try to pull away from him.

"Don't turn against me, Vivian. Please. _Please_. I need this second chance."

My head starts to spin, and my breathing becomes uneven. The inside of my body feels like it's on fire. It's like the entire car is closing in on me, like I'm drowning in a bathtub and gasping for air. _Abuse. Abuse. Abuse!_

"Tell me what I have to do so that I can prove to you that I've changed." Rick's voice quivers. "I'm not trying to scare you, Vivian, but I can't survive Degrassi without you. You warm my heart."

"I can't breathe, Rick. Please." I heave my words out in one breath before I gasp for another. I can feel my lungs collapsing. My breathing becomes rapid as I struggle with every heave of my chest to gasp for air.

Like lightning, Rick zips out of the car and runs over to my side, flinging the door open. "C'mon. Do you want to step out of the car?"

I nod briskly while doing so.

"Okay." Rick closes the door behind me, and I bend over, trying to steady my breathing. "That's it." Rick coaches. "Nice and steady." He rests his hand on my back. Then he kneels beside me and breathes steadily. "Inhale just like this." He draws in his breath slowly and releases it at the same pace, and I match him until my own breathing has calmed down. All the while Rick gently rubs my back. "There we go. You're doing great."

I sit down on the pavement, leaning against Rick's car. He joins me. My head's throbbing again, and I lean forward until my face is in between my legs. I can feel him moving his arms around me, his hands holding my shoulders. "You'll be okay." He's a smooth whisper against my ear.

I sit for several seconds like this, tension gripping my body. I'm feeling a moral contradiction brewing within myself.

"I'm so sorry for doing this to you, Vivian." Rick continues to speak. "I understand if you don't want to be my friend anymore. I...I'm trying to be different. I am...I just..." He sighs. "I'm trying." He gently rubs my shoulders.

Slowly I lift my head and look at him. His brown eyes are bleeding remorse behind his glasses.

"Hey, you guys alright?"

Abruptly I turn as I see Vince jogging towards us. "Viv? What happened?"

"I...my concussion." I answer. I can see Rick out of the corner of my vision looking at me as I address my brother. "I got a little light-headed, but I'm fine now."

Vince nods, kneeling down to join us. "You sure that's everything? You don't look so well...emotionally, I mean."

"Yeah that's it." I slowly stand to my feet, and Rick follows. My back faces Vince as I stare at Rick. I look at his eyes to see if I can find any sincere remorse for what happened. They seem rigid and motionless, and his dark eyebrows hover over them as he frowns. "Thanks for taking me back, Rick."

He nods. "It's no trouble."

"Well then...get back safely."

"I will." He replies. "I'll...see you tomorrow, right?" He still has the same, unreadable expression.

"Yeah." I reply.

"Okay." He nods at my brother. "Take care."

"You too." Vince replies.

"Yeah." I say.

Rick looks over at me one final time with a blank stare, but slowly a heavy frown forms on his face, one of hurt.

_The feeling's mutual, pal._

He finally turns away as he climbs into his graphite-colored car. As Rick pulls out of the driveway, Vince waves at him, and he returns it before pulling off down the street we came from, his red tail lights visible even as his car is slowly being swallowed by the trees.

Vince joins my side. "I won't ask."

"Thanks." I continue to stare at the street.

* * *

**Current Day**

"...and we haven't talked since." I bury my face in my hands as I proceed to tell Ivory the story.

She holds a napkin out to me. "Do you need another moment?" She asks gently.

"No...I think I'm good for now." I look up to respond. "You're seriously the best for listening to me."

"Of course, Vivian. It's the least I can do after last week."

Somehow Ivory got seven students that we barely knew in the cafeteria to give us their napkins. Before I could even tell her what actually happened I started bawling my eyes out like a baby, and I went through both mine's and Ivory's napkin in less than a minute. Some student even called Miss Sauve over, but I insisted I was fine, and thankfully she cooperated with me.

"I just can't believe...after all we had been through, that he would—"

"Believe it." Ivory says firmly. "Rick, and others like him, are good at deceiving people. That's how they're able to get away with it."

"But Rick wouldn't have come back to Degrassi if he wasn't serious about changing. He had to know that he would be hated."

"Vivian, I'm here for you, but you've _got_ to stop making excuses for Rick. What he did to you was unacceptable. Period. Don't make him the victim." Ivory holds my shoulder. "Don't forget that I used to be with him. I know how charming he can be."

I look down at my empty tray. Nothing but specks of lettuce and hamburger meat remain. Miraculously I still had a hardy appetite even after being stressed out about the whole Rick thing. "But...but I think he's sincere. Really I do. He honestly has no one else to take his side. If I wanted to rat him out, he'd definitely be back at square one. The last thing I would want is for students to have an excuse to bully him again."

Ivory sighs. "You should listen to yourself, Vivian. You're now another victim of his. Like Terri, like me. I get it: you guys are close, and you don't want to hurt him. I get that. After all: why be on the same boat as Rick? But you don't owe him a damn thing. My parents were fortunate enough to have me speak with a counselor who specialized in working with abusive men, and he told me that typically, people like Rick don't change, and if they do, you can't be so sweet and gentle with them. Now you have to hold them accountable, and be strict and firm with them. Rick has to feel the weight of his actions against him."

I sigh. "But the Degrassi already showed him that..."

* * *

**Rick's P.O.V.  
**

"Clearly not well enough!" Queenie exclaims. "Rick, you do realize that, just because you didn't _physically_ attack her, you did _abuse_ Vivian, right?"

I bite my lip. "I didn't know that she would have a panic attack like that."

"Stop it!" Queenie snaps. "Listen to you! You're passively blaming Vivian for something that YOU caused!" she raises her voice. "She had a panic attack because _you_ kept her against her will. And also you said you grabbed her hands. Could she pull away from you?"

I pause. "I didn't want her to think that I was a monster..."

"Rick, this isn't about you." Queenie says tartly. "Were you squeezing her hands too tightly?"

I can feel the corner of my mouth twitching. "Yes."

"So you were holding her down _and_ you had her locked in the car. In a car right outside of her own house! Let's put this in perspective, Rick, shall we? Imagine if your old pals were picking on you, and they kept _you_ locked in a car with them, and they held you down so that you couldn't escape. How would you feel? Safe? Respected? I highly doubt it, Rick, don't you?"

I remain silent as I scowl down at my half-eaten sloppy Joe, partially because I don't have an appetite, and partially because I can't stand this school's food. I sigh in response.

"Seriously: that's the stupidest thing you've done since being back—that and wearing that tacky-ass hat on your head." Queenie thumps the beret I'm wearing.

"Hey!" I say. "One: it's called a beret. Two: it's been in my family for generations!"

"I don't care. It's two-thousand four. Leave it at home. You and your messy attitude."

"Dammit, I know." I lower my head. "It's just that...Vivian is such an angel—"

"Stop right there." Queenie holds her hand up. "Vivian is _not_ an angel. She's a human being. You need to treat her as such. Yeah, she's kind and caring, but she isn't perfect, Rick. If you're not expected to be perfect, then neither is she."

"I thought that she would tell everyone about the list that I made."

"Bullshit. It sounds to me that you were hurt by being rejected for sex, which Vivian has every right to do." Queenie crosses her arms.

I can feel my face heating up. That did sting. Badly: I was caught up in the heat of the moment-quite literally. Vivian and her deep kisses; her big hair; her pretty, dark, smooth skin; her beautiful body unclothed. All I wanted was to strip away her underwear and caress her in her complete nakedness and sink into her over and over again. I was firm by the time Vivian stopped me from taking off her panties. I was eager to fill her up with me and show her how much I cared for her.

"See? Look at how red you are. I rest my case." Queenie sighs. "I thought you were supposed to have changed, Rick. I guess a few months in therapy isn't enough to get rid of all or your abusive tendencies, huh?" She stands up from the picnic bench and heaves her backpack over her shoulder. "You really have a lot to learn before you should even consider dating again."

"Queenie!" I stand up with her. "I want to learn from my mistakes. Please. Tell me how to do that."

"I don't know how to help you." She replies. "I've told you the best I could. The rest you need to figure out for yourself. Maybe Miss Sauve?"

"I can't tell her. What if she reports me?"

"Well you certainly can't keep this to yourself. Can't you tell any other adult you trust? Like your own therapist?"

Now I sigh. "I don't know...I'm making good progress there."

"Do you honestly care about the progress you're making? If you did, you would call your therapist and tell...him...or her, what happened."

"Him." I correct Queenie. _You know she's right._

"Look: no one deserves to be bullied, but as soon as you start acting abusive again, you are no longer the victim, Rick." Queenie says. "Isn't all of this torment enough to stop you from bullying someone else in the same way?"

I can feel my heart crashing into the concrete beneath my feet. Queenie is turning into my therapist, who both, admittedly, make the same good point. I'm in the wrong. _My_ actions were the horrible ones and _not_ my girlfriend's. No matter what she might have did, she didn't deserve the treatment I gave her.

"We should get to class soon." Queenie grabs her lunch bag from the table. "Class is about to start up."

"Uh...I'm actually going home to go to a doctor's appointment." I also grab my lunch on the tray. "I'm won't be coming back to school today."

"You don't say." Queenie rolls her eyes. "If I were you I wouldn't come back either. Ever."

Her last word reverberates across the school building and chills me to the bone.

Queenie shakes her head. "Get it together, Rick." She turns her back and walk towards Degrassi's building.

"I'm on it." I say even though she's now too far away to hear me.

As I dump my tray in the trash, I internalize what Queenie said. _Don't come back ever, she says? Easier said than done. We'd have to pack up and move and everything, and I can't afford to put my mother through all of that stress. Not again. As far as she's concerned, she thinks that I have two amazing friends and that the bullying has settled down._

_Well..._I head out towards the parking lot. _That's not entirely a lie. The bullying has stopped...somewhat. Now there's only a few guys that pick on me, but at least it's not the entire school anymore. At least it's not Emma leading on the student body and telling them to harass me._

I smile to myself as I think of Emma. I'm glad she's one of the team members on Whack-Your-Brain. I have one event to look forward to out of my miserable life at Degrassi. I walk a little faster along the street. _There's at least one good constant in my life._

"Yo, Richaaaaaaaarrrd!"

Any ounce of joy in my body has just been killed. There's a car honk followed by a familiar voice. Sure enough, a red, beat-up car pulls up beside me to my right, and the driver is none other than Spinner Mason.

"Hey, buddy." He has his window rolled down as he talks to me. The music of some rock band is blaring from the sound system, and it's stabbing my ears. He slows down the car's pace so that he's matching my walking speed. "Hey...man, I said hi. It's rude not to say hi back."

I bite my lip. If I don't say anything, maybe he'll go away.

It doesn't work. Spinner pulls the car up, angling it in front of me to block my path. He cuts off the motor and the the music and steps out of the car. He's joined by Jimmy, who walks out of the passenger side. I can feel the tall athlete looming over me from behind.

Spinner's hair takes me by shock. On the right and the back side of his head, his hair has been buzzed off. On the other half of his head, specifically the front and the left side of his head, there's long, blonde, straight hair hanging in front of his eyes. It's like he's wearing half of a bowl cut, and he just came back from a boy band rehearsal. "Seriously, what's that?" He stands in front of me. "I mean..."

_Let's just get this over with_. "Hi, Spinner." I speak.

"Hi." A dry response.

"New haircut?"

"Yes it is." He replies with a smirk.

"New _chapeau_?" This time it's Jimmy from behind who asks the question, and he removes the beret from my head. "Is that...? Ooh."

I sigh as Spinner brushes my hair off and Jimmy plays with my hat. "Aw man, this is nice." I hear Jimmy whistle behind me in a _womp-womp_ tune. The beret flies over my head into Spinner's hands.

"Hey this is nice." Spinner rubs the hat against his face. "So soft. Where'd you get it? I know where you can find it."

In one swift motion, he tosses my beret in the large, red dumpster a few feet away from us.

"Oh, man!" Jimmy instigates as Spinner snickers at his shot.

Inwardly moaning, I go over to retrieve my beret.

"You know what? I'll help you." I can hear two pairs of footsteps as Jimmy and Spinner follow me to the dumpster. _Brilliant._

Moaning, I climb up onto the dumpster in search of my possession. My two, well-intentioned buddies join me on either side.

"Oh. There." Spinner points towards the back corner of the dumpster where my beret sits, unharmed. _Thank goodness._

Just as I bend over to pick it up, one of my legs hanging in the air, in a flash I'm flipped over as Spinner grabs me by the leg, and I fall on my back into the dumpster. Fortunately I come down on something cushion-y rather than sharp. I look up to see Spinner and Jimmy snickering over me.

"Well I hope you find it along with maybe a little snack...something." Jimmy says.

"Yeah..." Spinner adds. "See you tomorrow, freak."

Just like that, the twosome split, leaving me in this sea of filth. A mold of anger and humiliation boil within me, and I throw my head back against the garbage bag underneath my head. I clench my trembling hands into two fists and squeeze my eyes shut. Why is this happening to me? Why can't I live in peace? In freedom? Why can't I have a happy moment without it being soiled? Why can't I _breathe_ without them sniffing around for trouble? I listen to the sound of Spinner's car engine rumbling until it fades into the distance.

I don't know how much longer I can take any of this. The smell of rotten meat, milk and mold that surrounds me reminds me of how sick to my stomach I am about Degrassi and its students. How they think they're so holy, so godly that they can torture me day after stinking day.

I'm through with this treatment. Through with it.


End file.
